


The Second Chance

by Lovemesomecas94 (Enby_Entity)



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Coffee shop romance, Dean realizing he's not as straight as he thought, Destiel College!AU, Gay Romance, M/M, intense mutual desire, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-10-11 17:18:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17451101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enby_Entity/pseuds/Lovemesomecas94
Summary: Dean Ackles is your typical college student. He studies enough to get by, is nothing but stress that he loves to alleviate by partying. Coffee shops are not his thing. He hates them. He hates more, however, being called a coward which is exactly what brings him to entering Antique Bliss Cafe and meeting the person destined to be the absolute love of his life. He struggles with it because the person his heart so desperately wants is male, and Dean could've sworn he was as straight as they come. That's not all. His romance interest, while mutually desiring Dean as well, harbors some secrets. Well, just one really.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I rated it as Mature only because there's a lot of swearing in it and there might be some somewhat descriptive sex scenes in it. I didn't want to get in trouble. Honestly, it's a very mild work, as all my works are, so if you're a teen, I don't think this work is going to be dangerous for you to read. It's just romance, honestly.

Dean stared up at the giant sign that hung above the entrance before him, mouthing the words as his face took on a sneering expression: _Antique Bliss Café._ What kind of stupid name was that?! Ugh, why did his stupid pride have to jump in every single time someone dares to so much as look at him in what he deemed was the wrong way? 

Last night he’d been at the bar having fun with his eye on this _gorgeous_ lady near the jukebox. Wait, no, he’d already been talking to her…yeah, he’d been talking to her. He had a wicked hangover today; his memory of last night had some glitches. Anyway, somehow the pair got to talking about coffee, and she asked him if he’d want to get coffee with her in the morning at a café different from this one (this town had four different coffee shops, ugh), and he’d automatically made the very sneering face he was making now. Dean didn’t do coffee shops. He loved coffee, coffee was life, but the shops that sold it were so dumb, so lame. Dean was what you’d call a partier. He liked the booze, the parties, the bars, you get the idea. So, what had happened, far as he could figure, was that some of the regulars who knew him very well had overheard the conversation, and had interjected themselves into it, right where they didn’t belong, rude assholes they were, because the next thing Dean knew, they were telling this lady all about how Dean didn’t _do_ coffee shops, and then they proceeded to sort of edge her out of the way and start in with their usual teasing.

Most nights Dean took it in stride, he wasn’t riled very easily, but last night one of them said just the right thing: they claimed the reason he avoided those places was because he was a coward, he was afraid to try new things. If there was one thing Dean didn’t tolerate being called, it was a coward. His pride took over and, well, here he was, to fulfill a bet he’d made.

He sighed heavily. His head was killing him and the last thing he wanted to do was go into what was sure to be a noisy place. The guys who had challenged him were sitting on a park bench nearby, however, snickering to each other so Dean had no choice. They hooted and waved when he shot a glare their way.

“You could always chicken out!” One of them called.

“But that’d make you a coward for sure!” The other chimed in.

Dean clenched his jaw, knowing full well he was bending right to their will, that they were just jeering him on for shits and giggles, but his pride was stronger than logic, and so he took the step, opened the door, and stepped inside. As the door closed behind him, it hit a little bell at the top that jingled a sweet melody. A barista behind the counter looked up upon hearing the jingle, and met Dean’s eyes.

Dean, who hadn’t meant to look right at the barista’s eyes, found himself staring right into the bluest of the blues he’d ever seen. There was something…different…about them. He couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was but he couldn’t look away, either. His heart was beginning to have trouble keeping a steady beat; his stomach was beginning to flutter. The guy behind the counter with the pretty blue eyes and slightly mussed black hair was the cutest, most compelling person Dean had ever crossed paths with. Suddenly he was at the counter, closer than ever to the guy, unable to think coherently.

…And then the barista smiled. Dean’s world fucking imploded. It was as if everyone else in the room disappeared and it was just them, alone, to do whatever they want.

“…for you?” the barista was saying.

 _Crap!_ Dean thought, realizing he hadn’t been listening. Great, now it was awkward.

“Sorry, I missed that. What’d you say?”

_That smile—no! Dean, focus!_

“It’s okay, it’s kind of loud in here, my apologies, I keep telling Michelle to turn it down but she likes her music.” The barista shrugged as if to say _what can you do, ya know? Just one of those things._ “What I said was hi, my name is Cas, what can I do for you?”

Dean’s throat suddenly felt very, very dry. He needed water, not coffee, but if he left here without a coffee in hand, he’d lose the bet and they’d get away with calling him a coward. With great effort, he took his eyes off of the barista—off of Cas—and looked at the menu up on the wall behind Cas, not understanding even a third of what was up on there.

 _God damn coffee shops_ , Dean thought, feeling his previous annoyance at being in here start to seep back in. In some ways it was a major relief from whatever the hell was ailing his body a minute ago.

Cas waited patiently; if he was annoyed with Dean for taking so long, he did a good job of not showing it, and as soon as Dean looked back at the barista, his own annoyance fled, replaced by straight up desire that made absolutely no sense. He wasn’t into guys…like…at _all_.

_Dean, get a grip! He’s waiting for you to answer. Stop wasting his time._

“Uh, okay, so I don’t usually go to coffee shops. What would you suggest?”

The barista smiled again, so damned _nice_ , wreaking absolute havoc on Dean’s heart. It took everything he had to try to get his breathing to seem normal, because his heart was just about done trying to work now.

“I personally would try the caramel espresso mocha. It cost almost six bucks but it will wake you up as sure as if someone had slapped you.”

Dean nodded, having lost all ability to function.

“You want one of those?” Cas asked him.

 _I want one of you,_ Dean caught himself thinking. He immediately berated himself. Outwardly, he could only to manage to nod again at the barista.

“Great. I need your name.”

Oh, God.

_Okay, Dean, relax. He just wants your name. It’s not like you’re getting married. Fucking relax, you moron. What is wrong with you?_

“My name.” Oh boy, his lungs were as bad as his heart. _Okay, Dean, come on. You got this. It’s just a guy. You are into girls, this is ridiculous._ “Dean Ackles.”

“Thank you,” Cas said, getting out a large cup and scribbling Dean’s name on the cup, “please wait by the register over there,” he pointed to where the register waited on the other end of the counter, “and your order will be ready soon.”

Dean swallowed hard and moved to where Cas had directed him, heart beginning to pound now as he watched him go to work. He noted Cas’ steady hands throughout the entire process, the complete focus the guy had, how sure and calm each movement was. He moved fast without hurrying, showing a guy who’d been at this long enough to be absolutely comfortable with it. It was less than two minutes before the drink was ready, but Dean had been studying Cas with such intensity that it’d felt like an eternity.

“Sex bucks,” Cas said.

Dean blinked, shocked.

“Excuse me?”

Cas laughed, and Dean’s knees lost all their strength. He grabbed the counter and held on for dear life until his legs returned to normal. It seemed to take forever.

“Man, you must’ve had a helluva night last night. I actually envy you a little bit.”

This beautiful creature envied him?! _How?!_

“Anyways, I said six bucks, the price of the drink.”

“Oh, right.” His brain was beginning to shut down now, and he knew he needed to get out of there or god only knew what stupid thing he might do next.

With fumbling hands, he got out his wallet, counted out six bucks, gave it to the barista, then got out three more, and put it into the tip jar labeled Cas. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile that lit not only the barista’s face and eyes, but also Dean’s entire world.

“You’re very kind, thank you.” Here he met _and held_ Dean’s gaze as he held out Dean’s drink. “Please come again.”

Dean swallowed hard again, swearing that Cas was expressing a personal desire to see _him_ , of all people, again and that’s when Dean said the stupid thing:

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“That’s great! Thank you for your business, have a good day, sir.”

Dean, knowing it was now or never for him to get the fuck out of there, grabbed his drink and hurried towards the door, wanting to run but forcing himself to keep his speed at a brisk walk.

When he opened the door, and exited, he heard the bell jingle as the door closed. Dean took in big gasping breaths of air, uncaring of the two assholes watching him and dying of laughter. They didn’t know. They had no _idea_. Oh, god, he said he’d be back tomorrow. Normally, he’d just say fuck it and not go, but…something about Cas made him feel obligated to stay true to his word, if just to be polite.

“God damn,” Dean muttered as all bodily functions returned to normal as if nothing had happened. In his hand, his coffee drink was hot, almost burning. Caramel espresso mocha? He had to admit that actually sounded good. He took a tentative sip. It burned his tongue but the _flavor_. Oh, hell, he’d been missing out. A smile crossed his face and he took another sip. He walked away, marveling at the wonderful drink he never knew existed.

 

Cas had heard the jingle of the bell and thought tiredly to himself: _here we go_. But the moment his eyes met the newcomer’s, everything changed. His heart told him in seconds that this was the guy he’d been searching for all his life. It took everything he had not to straight up ask the guy out. Obviously, and unfortunately, the guy was a straightie. Or, as Cas noted the way the guy was staring at him with obvious attraction, someone who thought he was straight. In some ways, that was worse.

Throughout their exchange, the guy was having a helluva time focusing, and Cas’ heart became more convinced by the end of it. Once his heart made up its mind, it did not change it, and his heart wanted this guy, straight or not.

Cas’ favorite moment, however, was when the guy, Dean he recalled, had taken a sip of his drink and immediately loved it. Cas’ heart swelled and a bright smile crossed his face watching as Dean took more sips, a smile of his own on his face, clearly having an epiphany about that drink in his hand, a drink Cas had made for him.

“You’ll be back,” Cas said to the guy who couldn’t hear him that far away, watching as he walked away. He couldn’t wait to see him again, no matter how stupid it was for him to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants, after all, and he knew better than anyone by now that you just can’t fight it; trying to do so merely wasted your energy.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean tried everything to get his mind off of Cas all day, and the fact that two exams and three in-class essays were not enough spoke volumes. So when it was finally nighttime, Dean went and got himself drunk and found a lady. A lady he was with right now, in his dorm room. She was on top of him, riding his cock like it was the last thing on earth that she was going to do. Dean was thrusting up into her, matching her rhythm; both of them greatly enjoying this.

When Dean looked up, he saw not the girl riding him, but Cas. His eyes trailed down Cas’ body to his [Cas'] erect member, then back up to Cas’ face. Cas was moaning his name, driving him absolutely bat shit crazy.

“Yes, Dean. Harder. Yes! Fuck me, Dean!”

Dean obliged, thrusting according to Cas’ desires, finding himself flying towards orgasm faster than he’d ever experienced.

“Yes!” Cas cried out, impossibly moving _faster_. “Right there! Yes! YES! OH—!” Dean watched as Cas came, his head tilted back, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, his mouth forming a little O as his cum hit Dean’s chest. After a minute, Cas looked back down at him, and smiled that beautiful smile of his. Dean came on the spot.

“ _Cas!_ ” He moaned, every nerve in his body flying with the orgasm surging through him.

“Cas?!” A female voice exclaimed, shattering the illusion. Dean, breathing hard, opened his eyes and saw not Cas sitting on top of him, but the lady, and all at once, with great horror, realized what he’d just done. He’d come alright, but had moaned Cas’ name out loud…instead of hers. It hadn’t _all_ been just in his head.

“W-wait…”

Disgusted, the woman slapped him, got off him, and started to dress with angry, agitated movements.

“Thinking of another woman?! I wasn’t good enough for you or something?! You’re such an asshole! Go to hell, Dean!” She stormed out of there half dressed, too angry to stand another minute in the room with him.

Dean had bigger problems than her, however. He stared at his condom-clad member and just couldn’t believe how he’d come, couldn’t believe he’d actually imagined fucking Cas. He was straight, damn it! He decided then and there that to hell with being polite. He was never going back to Antique Bliss Café, not even if his life depended upon it.

 

Cas checked his watch and felt the familiar sinking feeling he always felt with guys like Dean Ackles. He knew he wasn’t coming, had known yesterday right as Dean was promising he would, because he knew what went through the minds of guys who thought they were straight. They stayed in denial for as long as possible, and only when they’ve been trying to deny it long enough, like, say, twenty years, do they finally come to accept that they like guys as they like girls. The shame they feel about that, though, never really goes away, and why should Dean have been any different?

Every now and then, though, Cas meets one of the straighties who comes to terms with their newfound change in sexuality pretty fast, and usually it’s a lot of fun for them for a while, but even then the guy eventually leaves. Either way, Cas goes back to square one, with nights spent alone while slowly and surely the loneliness buries him.

So, why should Dean have been any different?

_Because there IS something different about him, something more._

_Well, too bad, you’re never going to find out._

Cas cast one last longing look at that door, trying to will Dean to show up and walk through, but gave up after a minute and went back to the mundane everyday life he’d been living. Why would he ever have been lucky enough to get someone like Dean? It was insane to have thought otherwise.

 

A nagging feeling was birthed in the back of Dean’s mind when the time this morning matched when he’d been in the café yesterday. He ignored it, he was good at that, and went about his usual Saturday business, which was just catching up on homework and doing laundry. By noon, that nagging feeling had grown exponentially, so much so that he could no longer easily ignore it. Still, he refused to acknowledge it because he knew exactly what it was trying to make him do. He knew it wanted him to go to that café as he’d promised. No way he was going there; he was going to ride out whatever sickness this was and go back to normal, back to strictly girls, because Dean Ackles was a ladies man. Dean Ackles didn’t do men. Hell no.

By two in the afternoon, his efforts had seemingly started to pay off; the nagging feeling was beginning to dissipate. At around three, he went to the park, as he always did on Saturdays, to try to pick up a woman. In this area, women loved to hang out at the park with their dogs, and it was the easiest way for him to score a night spent with a lovely lady. After the mishap last night, he _needed_ this.

Of course, about two minutes after he got there, he spotted the one person who was fucking up his perfectly _normal_ life, and felt his heart lurch in his chest; the kind of lurch one feels at seeing their crush. All resolves to stay away utterly dissolved as he watched Cas run around playing chase with his dog, the biggest smile on Cas’ face. Dean marveled at the love shining in the guy’s expression, and felt his heart go all soft. Animal lovers were a weakness of his.

Before he could stop himself, his feet, his legs were walking him towards them, and despite the screaming he did in his mind at his legs to _stop_ , they refused to adhere to his commands. By then, Cas had sensed someone coming towards him and looked up. That sealed the deal, there was no turning back for Dean, especially when that brilliant smile shined on Cas’ face upon recognizing him; a smile Dean thoroughly enjoyed even if he was the last person on earth who deserved that gift.

“Hey, Dean, fancy seeing you here,” Cas greeted when Dean was close enough.

“Hi, Cas,” Dean replied, wondering what in the hell he was even going to talk about. Why had he come over here?? A bark from the dog gave him just the thing. “Who’s this little fella?”

 _Funny_ , Dean thought, _calling him a little fella_ ; the dog was a golden retriever, hardly a little fella. The dog, of course, did not care about being called a little fella. He cared only about the petting Dean was doling out, the dog’s tail swishing back and forth with great excitement.

“His name is Sam.”

Dean looked up with surprise. “That’s my brother’s name.”

Cas’ eyebrows went up, just a little.

“You have a brother, cool. I’m an only child.”

“Oh, lucky you,” Dean commented dryly.

This only made Cas more curious.

“Why do you say that?”

“Sam and I don’t get along, we never have. We’re there for each other if we really need it but otherwise, we barely talk and have pretty much nothing in common. He’s a law student. I’m not, and he constantly lords it over me.”

 _Why did I just tell him that?_ Dean wondered. _Why had it come out so easily?_

“What are you going to school for?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s just the general requirements right now. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and most people swear that’s, like, the worst thing ever.”

_Oh my god, Dean, shut up!_

Cas studied him, then looked down at his dog and scratched behind Sam’s ear.

“It’s not,” he said quietly.

Dean blinked.

“What?”

Cas looked at him, with a wisdom that far exceeded his age…however old Cas was; Dean guessed he was in his early twenties at least.

“It’s not the worst thing if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. It’s hard to live, and not everyone is blessed with obvious talents. You have talents, Dean Ackles, you just haven’t discovered them yet. You have plenty of time, don’t worry about it.”

Dean was shocked into silence. He’d been right about the wisdom. There was far more to Cas than met the eye. Like also, for example, there was something under that sunny surface of his, something dark. Dean didn’t know this guy in the least bit, but he _did_ know what depression looked like—after all, his father had it—and he saw some of that in Cas now.

All he could think to say next was:

“Thank you.” It occurred to him then: “Do you know what you want?”

Cas nodded, but kept his gaze on his dog.

“I’m in school for the arts.”

“And you work at the café to pay off tuition?”

He nodded. “The school made a deal with me if I worked there they’d cover a third of the cost of tuition every semester since the café has been in my family and they know they’re good for it.” Cas shrugged, seeming self-conscious about this. “I’m lucky.”

“I’m here on a scholarship.”

Cas looked up at him. “Oh?”

Dean nodded, still wondering why the hell he was telling Cas all these personal details of his life. That wasn't a thing Dean Ackles did.

“I turned in an essay I did for a creative writing contest and they awarded it first place and a scholarship to a school of my choice.”

“Why’d you come here? You could’ve gone to Harvard or any of those Ivy League schools. You could’ve done that to stick it to your brother.”

Dean felt a blush creep into his cheeks. The reason he’d chosen to go to Oak Hills University here in Riverside, Maine was very simple, but very embarrassing. He wasn’t ready to leave home. Well, not his home _town_ , anyway.

Instead of answering, Dean decided to change the subject.

“Are you from here?”

Cas wasn’t fooled in the least bit, but he seemed to know when to not push things.

“No.”

“I thought you said the café had been in your family for a while.”

“It has, but that doesn’t mean I have to have anything to do with it; it belonged to my dad’s sister. Speaking of the café, you never showed up this morning.”

Dean’s gaze slid automatically to the dog as his memory recalled the events of last night even though that was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about.

“Had some homework I forgot about.”

This time, Cas pushed.

“What’s the real reason?”

Dean didn’t like this one bit.

“That is the real reason!”

Cas scoffed.

“We both know it’s not, but whatever, Dean, have it your way. Sam, home!”

The dog barked once and ran ahead of Cas, who took off at a jog to keep up. Dean watched the pair as they made their way to the street. It was likely Cas wouldn’t talk to him again and their paths wouldn’t cross, which was a good thing…so why did Dean feel so bummed out about the way this had ended? Cas had given him an out, and instead of feeling relieved, Dean just felt more confused than ever.

Just what in the hell was going on with him?!


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stood there for several minutes long after Cas had disappeared from sight, wrestling feelings inside of him he’d only ever felt before for women. It was clear as day, but…was this even possible?? Was it possible for someone to suddenly start liking the gender opposite the one they swore they were attracted to? He’d never felt this way about another guy before. What did this mean?! _Could_ he be with another guy? It sounded weird to him, wrong even…but…these feelings…they weren’t letting up.

Cas’ words came back to him:

_“We both know it’s not, but whatever, Dean, have it your way.”_

What even?? To have it his way, there’d be none of these damn feelings in the first place!

He decided to go after Cas to demand an explanation as to what that meant…only he had no idea where Cas lived, which made the cafe the only place Dean could look for him. It was a start?

At the café, Dean didn’t see Cas anywhere. There was a woman behind the counter working on another’s order. Dean approached, waited for her to finish, and then waited for her to notice him. It didn’t take long; Dean was always noticed. Any other day had he come in here, his mind not so preoccupied, he would’ve noticed how attractive the woman was and returned her flirtatious smile; he would’ve flirted with her and no doubt talked her into going home with him.

As it was, today he was changing. Today there was someone else.

“Mind telling me where Cas is?” he asked, managing only a small smile out of politeness.

Her smile faded.

“He’s not here.”

“Well, yeah, I know, I was wondering if you could tell me where he went.”

“I don’t know. Cas works from six A.M. to two P.M. Monday through Saturday, and has Sundays off.”

Dean checked his watch. It was three-forty in the afternoon. Son of a bitch!

“Could you tell me where I might find him?”

The woman shook her head.

“Sorry.”

Dean sighed heavily. Great. Now what?

 

Castiel, just up the stairs from the café that was on the first floor (he lived in an apartment above it) had heard everything, and stifled a sigh. Part of him wanted to celebrate. Most of him warned caution, to not leap into this too fast, despite how much he wanted to take advantage of Dean’s change of mind before he changed it back. He’d done that for far too long and had only gotten hurt; he was so tired of getting hurt.

His heart sank as he heard the jingle of the door closing, realizing his window for action had closed. Well, he _could_ run out after the guy, but that’d make it far too obvious just how needy he was, and that was the last thing he swore he’d ever show anyone ever again. Too many took advantage of it. This time around, he was going to be more than just some easy lay. Cas was going to _mean something_ to someone…if such a thing were even possible. Was it possible?

 

Dean went to his dorm after that and sat down on his bed trying to figure out how the hell to find Cas. After about fifteen minutes of brainstorming, he got fed up and gave up with a groan, falling backwards onto his bed and putting a pillow against his face. Why did it have to be _him_ having this problem? Why did he have to suddenly like someone so god damned confusing? Why couldn’t have Cas have been a woman?!

With a sigh, Dean moved the pillow off his face and stared up at the ceiling, deciding he’d try again tonight to forget this whole ordeal. He maneuvered more fully onto the bed, intending to nap to rest up for tonight. He fell asleep quickly, but what he dreamt of didn’t help him in the least bit.

  _Dean walked into the café, saw Cas behind the counter and with grim determination, jumped the counter, felt his body respond to Cas’ wide-eyed expression, grabbed the guy’s shirt, pulled him in and fiercely kissed him. He’d expected Cas to freeze, to not respond, but that wasn’t the case. Cas breathed into the kiss, Dean swearing he heard him say “finally” before he [Cas] was kissing him back. Something let loose in Dean; he felt his heart filling up with the oddest sense of euphoria. Just from kissing the guy! It didn’t end there though. As their lips moved in perfect sync, Dean began to feel hands tugging at the fastening of his jeans. His heart began to beat faster._

 **_Aren’t we moving too fast?_ ** _He wanted to ask, but words flew right out of his head as Cas took him in his hard entirety into his mouth. The guy apparently had no gag reflex, and it was taking everything Dean had to remain standing. He had one hand gripping the counter top while his other was curled into a fist in an effort to hold in the moans. They weren’t alone in the café, after all, and so far nobody had noticed anything going on behind the counter. He tried his best to remain absolutely still, to hate this with everything he had, but in under half a minute, both hands were curling their way into Cas’ dark hair, Dean’s hips starting to move despite his every effort to stop them. Cas didn’t seem to mind Dean fucking into his mouth, in fact  Dean saw Cas rubbing himself during this and felt his own desire heighten further._

**_God, what is wrong with me? I’m turned on by him touching himself during this?_ **

_It didn’t take Dean long to—_

Dean opened his eyes with a loud gasp. His gaze fell to his hardened member trapped in his jeans, feeling the wetness there. He closed his eyes and groaned.

“Something is wrong with me,” he muttered.

Well, nothing else to do but discard his soiled clothes, shower the cum off himself, and put on fresh clothing.

“Damn you, Cas,” Dean hissed as he got off the bed to do this. _Damn you for existing._ Damn the guys for daring him to go into a café. Damn the café for existing. Damn it all.

 _I was perfectly happy where I was, you asshole,_ Dean thought to Cas even though he couldn’t hear it. _Everything made sense. I was having fun. Why’d you have to fuck that all up?! Damn you, Cas. Damn you, damn you, damn you!_

 

Sunday was uneventful for Dean, though he spent the day thinking nonstop of Cas and absolutely hating himself for it, and hating Cas for it. Truth be told, and Dean would die before admitting this aloud, he missed Cas. He wanted to be near him again. He wanted to see him.

On Monday, he got his chance. Well, he took his chance, really. At seven in the morning he strolled into the empty café save for the guy prepping the machines, went up to the counter and addressed the guy’s back.

“What the hell did you mean?”

 

Cas started, dropped whatever he was holding, and turned to shoot a glare at Dean.

“Jesus Christ, Dean! Do you have no manners?!” He let out an agitated sigh and bent to pick up the item he dropped. It appeared undamaged but that didn’t alleviate his bad mood any. He sent another dirty look Dean’s way. “You’re damned lucky this didn’t break. These machines are fucking expensive.”

 

Dean was stunned by the venom coming off this guy today.

“What in the hell’s up your ass today?”

 

“Go away, Dean, I’m not in the mood.”

In fact, Cas hadn’t slept for shit Saturday or Sunday. The loneliness within him ached more than usual, but it was more than that. It was like…being so close to something he knew was meant to be, and watching it just…pass him by, unable to reach out and grab it, dismayed that it was paying him no mind whatsoever.

It hurt like hell.

 

“Yeah, Cas, I can see that, but see, you’re not the only person in the world. I’m not having a great time myself. You think I want to be up this early on a Monday morning spending my time in a café?”

Cas set down the item with a slam and approached Dean, eyes burning with fury. Dean knew, however, behind that anger was a pain deeper than he could fathom, pain that Cas had been living with for far too long.

“Then how about you get your fucking ass out of my fucking café and leave me the fuck alone, if you’re so fucking unhappy?!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?!”

Dean found himself unable to speak, because he knew the answer and it wasn’t something he thought he could say out loud. If he said it out loud, it made everything that much more real, and that much  scarier as well as confusing.

Cas scoffed.

“Figures. If you’re not going to buy coffee, then do me a favor and get the fuck out of my life.”

Dean felt his heart completely scream bloody murder against that idea and with horror realized it was already too late for him to walk away from…whatever was happening here.

“I can’t do that, Cas. I’d love to, I really would, but I _can’t!_ ”

“I’d ask why but you’ll just avoid the question so you know what? Do whatever the fuck you want. Just leave me the fuck out of it.” He turned his back. Dean didn’t see Cas close his eyes, didn’t see Cas’ lower lip tremble as tears threatened, and didn’t see Cas bite his lip to fight those tears back.

But he sensed it.

“I like you, Cas. God only knows why. Fuck, God only knows _how_. But I can’t get you out of my damn head. It’s driving me up the god damn wall; no matter what I do, there you are in there, front and center. I don’t do this shit, going after people. I don’t get obsessed. I fuck em and I move on. I fuck _women_ and move on. Makes me scum, I know, but there you have it. I don’t do guys. I never have. I don’t know why the fuck you’re any different, but you are and I just…” Dean lost his nerve and fell silent.

Cas turned slowly to look at him, and Dean’s heart broke at what he saw. He saw a guy who’d been down this path—the one of wanting someone who didn’t want him back—too many times, a guy who’d felt more pain from it than he deserved, a guy who had long ago lost any hope of ever finding happiness in romance. He saw a guy who didn’t believe that he wanted him back. Before he could stop himself, Dean leaned across the counter between them and laid a soft kiss on Cas’ lips. Something let loose within Cas because a single tear ran down his cheek as Dean pulled away.

At first there was nothing between them but dead silence, and with it Dean felt a growing anxiety. He’d clearly overstepped.

Sure enough…

“Please leave,” Cas said, his voice not much above a whisper.

Something in that tone, Dean knew it was best to heed it. Without a word he turned and walked out of the café. He cast a glance backwards over his shoulder, though, and saw Cas close his eyes and cover his mouth as the first sob escaped, more tears rolling down the guy’s cheeks.

To his surprise, Dean felt his own tears start; one escaped down his own cheek. He wiped it away, wondering why the fuck he was crying.

Yet he knew. He didn’t want to, but he did. Cas wasn’t just some random guy. Something was happening here, something far beyond either of their control, something they wouldn’t be able to fight. It was something that was going to rip them wide open whether or not they were ready for it, and it was something that was going to both hurt the hell out of them and heal them in the most extraordinary ways. This was only just beginning.

Dean headed back to his dorm; head cast down to hide the few tears that managed to escape his control. His first class wasn’t until ten, and since it was just down the street his dorm was on, he decided to sleep this off.

It wasn’t successful.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas got a hold of himself shortly after Dean had left. He didn’t have to wonder if Dean had seen, he knew he had, just no idea how he knew that, though. Just as he wiped the last of the tears off his cheeks, Michelle walked in from the back and stopped short upon taking one look at him. Then she was right in front of him pulling him into a hug.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Cas, you’ve obviously just been crying, crying never means okay. Unless you were happy crying.”

Cas couldn’t fight the scoff that left him. Happy crying—happy anything, really—wasn’t ever a part of his life, and he knew she knew this.

“What happened, then?”

He told her about Dean, ending with the kiss. At this, she pulled back, looking confounded.

“You burst into tears because he kissed you?”

Cas sighed wearily. “Michelle, I’m not a psychologist, I don’t know _why_ him kissing me made me cry, it just did, okay?”

“Well, honey, I am, and I’ve seen how your life is. If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve reached your limit of tolerating having emotions for unavailable guys. Dean is just another one of them, and you can’t take it anymore, this repetitive cycle of yours.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong.

“I just. I don’t know…why…he kissed me…when he’s obviously so against this.”

“I think you need to go find him and ask.”

She wasn’t wrong there, either.

 

Dean spent all day wondering what the hell had possessed him to kiss Cas and, even more so, why the hell he wanted to do it again. Well…if it would make Cas cry again he didn’t want to do it but…ugh! Okay, tonight he’d try…one more time…to get these feelings buried for good, and he had just the place to go.

 

Cas, around nine that evening, finally got up the nerve to go to Dean’s dorm room. He’d found where Dean was located hours before but hadn’t been able to bring himself to go there. Now, he stood outside the door, wanting to turn around and walk away. Before he had a chance to even do that, however, the door opened and a woman who’d clearly just finished having sex (further evidenced by Dean in the background sliding some sweatpants on his otherwise naked body) exited the room, letting out an exclamation as she narrowly avoided running into Cas. This was followed both by Dean looking up with surprise, looking even more surprised when he saw who it was, and the woman uttering a rude remark to Cas, which went unanswered and ignored.

Cas’ heart was breaking. Again.

 

Dean saw the look on Cas’ face and part of him wanted to let Cas walk away, knowing he would in a few minutes. Most of him, however, wanted to salvage this.

It was something he couldn’t ignore.

Now that they were alone, Dean approached Cas who immediately looked away. Dean’s mind raced with a million and one things to say to start this conversation but the only thing that came out was:

“How’d you find me?”

 _Idiot,_ he thought to himself, seeing the hurt deepen in Cas’ eyes, what minor glimpse he allowed Dean to have.

“You told me you were going to college here, I simply asked the lady at the front desk where you were dorming because I was your brother come to visit you and you failed to tell me where you were located. She believed me. The whole thing took a total of two minutes.”

Dean nodded. That was a good plan of his.

“I’m going to go home now.” Cas began to turn away.

It was now or never.

“Cas, wait.”

“Dean,” a heavy sigh, “don’t bother. It’s obvious I’m the fool here, I’m sure you’ll laugh it up with your friends tomorrow.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

Cas looked at him with a sharp gaze.

“Surely you’re not that dense, Dean! It’s obvious that I like you! It’s also obvious that I’m an idiot for thinking you could possibly feel the same. You’ve said it yourself. You don’t do guys.”

“Look, I am sorry I kissed you.”

Cas visibly winced at this, and Dean suddenly realized what he actually felt regarding the kiss.

“Well, actually, I’m not sorry for kissing you. I’m sorry for the way it made you feel, for the way it made you react. Kissing you was…actually really nice.”

“You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

“Believe it or not, Cas, that’s not something I do.”

Cas looked so confused…for about a minute, and then his expression changed and Dean knew what was coming.

“That doesn’t matter, anyway, as evidenced by tonight.”

“I…” Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah. I thought so. Have a nice life, Dean.”

“Cas, wait!”

“Why?!” Cas snapped, turning about again. “Why?? Give me one god damned good reason why, Dean, because I’ve done this before, way too often, and I _can’t_ anymore. I can’t do this. I…” his Adam’s apple bobbed in this throat as he fought back his emotions.

Dean took a step closer, every nerve in his body burning with desire for the tortured soul standing before him. He’d felt nothing with the woman, hadn’t even been able to get it up for her, but with Cas standing before him, it felt like he was on fire. He felt alive for the first time in his life, and he liked it.

“Because I want you,” Dean said softly.

Cas shook his head, not believing him.

“You’re straight, said so yourself.”

“I _thought_ I was straight. I’m beginning to realize that’s never been the case, I was just too blind to see it. You opened my eyes.”

“Then go find someone else.”

Dean’s eyebrows came together; frustration beginning to seep in.

“Why would you do that? You spent some time trying to get me to see that I’m actually into guys, and now that I see it, and want you, suddenly you want me to find someone else?”

“I’m not…worthy. I didn’t...I didn’t think this through.”

Everything Cas said was said to his feet, not to Dean, and Dean wanted him [Cas] to see just how much he [Dean] wanted him. He took another step closer, tucked a finger gently under Cas’ chin, and eased his head up. Cas looked over to the side, as if the wall there was just _so fascinating_.

“Cas, how do you not know your worth?”

“You don’t know me.”

“That’s what dates are for.”

“No!” Cas pushed Dean away from him. “I shouldn’t have come here!” He tried for the third time to walk away and for a split second, Dean let him.

Then Dean changed his mind. Without a word, he caught Cas’ arm, stopped him, turned him towards himself, then stepped in close, took Cas’ face gently in his hands, and laid a kiss right on the guy’s lips. Dean had wanted the kiss to be fierce, but it ended up being soft, gentle, almost like a whisper. It didn’t last long and Dean pulled back only a little without releasing Cas’ face.

The tears were back in Cas’ eyes.

“Why does me kissing you elicit this reaction?” Dean murmured.

“I don’t know,” Cas said miserably. “I hate it, and I hate that I want you to kiss me more. I hate that I want you.”

“Why?”

“Because it always goes this way! The guy can’t see he likes guys as well as girls, has some fun experimenting with me, and then thinks that’s all it is, just an experiment. He leaves me, goes back to fucking girls, and acts like none of it ever happened. While I’m left in the dust, wondering why in the hell I keep making this same mistake time and time again unable to fucking stop myself when it starts all over again. You’re just going to leave me like all the rest and I…” A sob overcame him. He tried to push Dean away but this time, Dean wasn’t having any of it. He did release Cas’ face but only to pull the guy into his arms.

“Let it out,” he encouraged.

Cas fought him. Well, tried to fight him. Dean was just a little bit stronger.

“No, Dean, let me go!”

“Let it out, Cas.”

“Damn it, Dean!”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, you asshole! Let me go!”

“I’m not going to be like those shitheads.”

“Yes, you are!”

Cas’ efforts were weakening.

“Yes, you are,” he repeated through another sob. “Every one of them, nobody is different. They always leave.”

“You need to let it out.”

“Fuck you, Dean!” But that was the last of his strength, the last of his hold on his emotions. A third sob escaped and with it, the flood gates opened. “Fuck you,” Cas snarled against Dean’s chest as it all came out in tears and sobs. Dean held the guy close to him, murmuring encouragement, supporting him, stroking his hair, rubbing his back, something that at first only made Cas cry harder. Dean’s heart was in agony, unable to believe just how broken this guy really was. You’d never have known, the way he always carried such a sunny disposition in his workplace, in public.

“I’ve got you,” Dean promised, meaning every word. No longer was he fighting this. If he was into guys, so be it. Cas deserved to be treated right, and this was Dean’s chance to actually, for once in his life, be a decent boyfriend. Dean found himself actually wanting to be a good boyfriend. That is…if Cas would have him as a boyfriend.

One thing at time. For now…

Dean held Cas long after the tears stopped, realizing that the guy was in desperate need of someone to just hold him. He loved every second, thrilling at the way Cas completely, for the moment anyways, trusted him to not let another thing hurt him again. It was peaceful holding him, blissful even. Dean never wanted to let go, never wanted this moment to end.

But, alas, it had to. They were, after all, merely human, and both them had early mornings tomorrow.

Still. Dean hung on. He wasn’t ready to let go just yet, and Cas seemed to be just fine with this, even seeming to tighten his hold on Dean.

It made Dean smile.


	5. Chapter 5

When Cas moved out of Dean’s arms, Dean felt an immediate ache in his heart, wanting to pull Cas back to him, never letting go. He didn’t, because, well, respect.

“You gonna be okay?” He asked.

Cas nodded.

“So…”

“I need to get home. It’s. Uhm. Late.” Cas still couldn’t look at him.

“Cas?”

A glance then he was staring back at the floor.

“Yeah?”

“It’s okay.”

Cas grimaced.

“I’ll…talk to you later.” He started towards the doors.

“Can I walk you home?”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“Can I walk you home?” Dean tried again, trying to get Cas to hear his meaning; no, not _that_ , he just wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

Cas heard, stopped, and looked back at him with immense haunted eyes. Dean briefly wondered if he would ever see those eyes shine with joy; he cast the thought out and approached Cas, who seemed unable to hold his gaze when he was close.

“Just so you get home safe,” Dean said, then promised: “I’ll be the perfect gentleman, won’t reach to take your hand. I’ll even leave a foot of space between us.”

A smile tugged at Cas’ lips.

“That’s not necessary.”

Dean felt his own smile appear.

“I’m not so bad, am I?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m going now.” He finally made it out the door with Dean following keeping his promise. There was a moment, halfway there, when Cas moved in closer and allowed his hand to lightly brush Dean’s. Dean so badly wanted to take that hand but he'd promised he wouldn't so he didn’t. He couldn’t stop the smile, though, and Cas wasn’t blind to it.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“I haven’t said anything!” Dean replied, playing innocent.

“You’ve said plenty and you know it.”

They arrived at the café then, and Dean’s mind switched gears.

“I’m confused; do you sleep in your café?”

“No; close, though.” Cas pointed to the floor above. “I own the apartment up there.”

Dean was impressed, stunned really.

“How the hell do you afford _that?”_

Cas shrugged.

“Just do.”

Dean looked at him, feeling his heart flutter as Cas immediately looked away.

 _He looks at me when I’m not looking_ , he realized, his heart fluttering some more at the thought. _God, he’s adorable_.

“Well, that’s just the coolest thing.”

“I guess.”

 _I want to kiss you_.

Cas looked up with surprise, and Dean realized he’d said that out loud. Worried Cas would begin to panic, Dean held up his hands in a peaceful gesture.

“I won’t, though.”

Cas regarded him for a second then much to Dean’s surprise stepped in close and laid a kiss on his lips. Dean’s entire being melted, his mind went blank, and his hands of their own accord rested on Cas’ waist. Every nerve in his body thrilled when the kiss lasted far more than a few seconds, Cas leading the entire way.

All of a sudden, _too_ sudden though, it was over; Cas said goodnight, turned, and disappeared into the building, leaving a heightened Dean standing outside in the cool autumn air, swimming in utter bliss.

“Goodnight,” Dean murmured too late, marveling.

No girl he'd been with had ever kissed him like _that_.

In a trance, Dean slowly turned around and made his way back the way he’d come, excited to see Cas again tomorrow.

 

Tuesday morning, the following morning, Dean got up at nine, showered, dressed, and was out of his dorm by nine-thirty even though his first class wasn’t until one in the afternoon. He knew Cas was working and just wanted to pay the guy a visit. When he got to the café, however, he was astounded to see how busy it was. Tuesdays must’ve been their busy day, and then Dean saw _why_. Tuesdays there was a sale on all caffeine beverages of any size. Or at least, this Tuesday there was.

Cas was so busy he hadn’t looked up when the bell had dinged as the door closed, and didn’t notice Dean even when it was Dean’s turn to order; not until he spoke, that is.

“I’ll take one of your famous caramel espresso mochas, largest cup you got.”

Cas did a double take, stared at Dean for a full minute, and then smiled.

That smile stopped Dean’s heart and he smiled back. Savage Garden's “Truly Madly Deeply” started playing on the stereo. It was a song Dean loved, though he’d die before admitting it to anyone. It made the moment _that_ much more special.

“Morning,” he said, trying everything he knew to resist leaning across the small space between them and kissing the angel before him.

Cas’ cheeks turned pink, and he grew shy again. Dean’s heart utterly screamed with affection.

“You wanted caramel espresso mocha?” Cas asked.

“For starters, yeah.”

Swallowing, Cas turned and went to make it while Dean went to the other end of the counter to wait. Cas’ hands shook this time, he dropped things, he spilled the drink at one point, but Dean didn’t care, still thinking Cas was the most perfect person in the world.

“Here you go,” Cas murmured at the end of it. “Three dollars.”

“That’s a great price. Do you want to go out on a date tonight?”

Cas looked up into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, I have to work.”

“Obviously it’d be after you get off.”

“Uhm,” he glanced at the other end of the counter.

“Cas,” Dean said patiently, “it’s a date, not marriage. If you want, it can just be coffee.”

Cas’ slowly looked back at him, seemed to have struggles breathing, and then his eyes gradually traveled up Dean’s face, eventually meeting Dean's gaze.

“When?”

Dean fought the urge to be a sarcastic shit, struggling to keep his tone even.

“Toni—”

Cas interrupted with a heavy sigh, briefly looking annoyed.

“I know _that_. I meant what _time_.” He blew out another breath.

Dean was thrilled that Cas was saying yes.

“Is seven okay?”

“Seven is fine.” A jingle caught Cas’ attention. “I gotta go.”

“Wait.”

Cas, having not even taken a single step yet, looked back at him.

“Dean, I have a cus—”

Dean stole a kiss.

“See you tonight, stud,” he said softly, enjoying the way Cas’ eyes widened slightly, enjoying more the blush that crept into his cheeks. Dean smiled at him, patted one of the flaming cheeks and walked out of there, feeling quite proud of himself.

He couldn’t wait until tonight and tried remembering the last time he felt this excited to be going out with someone, realizing with great shock that he hadn’t felt this way since high school.

 

At seven, Cas heard the jingle of the bell downstairs and felt his heart practically stop upon hearing Dean calling out for him. He wanted to call out that he’d be right down, but his voice failed him. He stood before his bathroom mirror, dressed in a coat and tie, casual jeans, and dress shoes that were too uncomfortable. He looked okay, but his heart was going a mile a minute, he was so incredibly _nervous_.

 _What is wrong with you?_ He thought at his reflection in the mirror. _This is not the first date you’ve ever had. You’ve been with lots of people. He’s just…_

 _He’s perfect. He’s someone you wanted that actually wants you back. That’s the difference. He looks at you the way you’ve always dreamed of someone looking at you. For all intents and purposes, bud, this_ is _like a first date for you, being with someone who actually returns your affections._

_Supposedly…_

_Bitch, you know damn—_

“Cas?!” Dean called out a second time.

Cas continued staring at himself in the mirror.

_Okay, call out to him. Let him know you’re okay._

Nothing happened.

“Cas, are you okay?!” Dean’s voice sounded closer.

Cas closed his eyes as his nerves worsened.

_What is wrong with me?_

“Cas.”

Cas’ heart leapt into his throat. He stayed absolutely still, hating himself for being so…lame.

Dean’s hands rested lightly on the tops of his arms.

“What’s wrong?”

_I’m not the one you deserve to be with._

“Just nervous,” Cas said quietly.

 

Dean smelled bullshit. Well, partial bullshit. Cas very well could be nervous but this was more than that. This was a guy who’d had exactly zero luck in love, and had developed a very unhealthy distorted image of his worth. The guy was a treasure, he just couldn’t see it.

“Come with me tonight, I’ll show you how wrong you are,” Dean murmured in Cas’ ear, knowing the guy knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because, Dean! This is far more difficult for you than it needs to be. I’m sorry I’m so lame.”

“Hey,” Dean turned Cas around to face him, tilted his chin up to look into his eyes, and said firmly, “you’re broken. No guy has treated you right so you _think_ you have no worth but see, Cas, they’re wrong, and you’re wrong. You’re absolutely perfect. And I know this contradicts my earlier behavior of trying to deny this, but that’s done with now. I want you. You make me feel things I haven’t felt since I was a teenager and I really enjoy feeling them. So please. Trust me, go out with me. The agitated nerves won’t last forever, they'll calm down, I promise.”

For the first time in…a long time, actually…Cas _breathed_.

“Okay, Dean,” he said, taking a huge leap of faith.

Dean, holding Cas’ hand, led him out of the bathroom, the apartment, and the café. They went to dinner in town, then to a movie. After the movie, it was dark out, the moon was shining bright in the sky, and they went for a walk in the park. They found a spot that was devoid of trees, and Cas immediately looked up at the moon. Dean, though he appreciated the moon’s beauty, saw something far more beautiful standing right beside him. He dropped Cas’ hand to put his arm around the guy’s waist, capturing Cas’ complete attention.

“Sorry,” Dean murmured, “go back to staring at the moon.”

“I can’t, knowing you’re staring at me now.”

“I’ve been staring at you all night.”

Cas started to look away, seemed to think better of it, met Dean’s gaze, and then leaned in for a kiss. Maybe this whole thing was a cliché, but Dean had never felt so _complete_ , even if it was just the first date. This relationship was going places, he just knew it, and it thrilled him that he'd get to be able to discover it all with Cas.


	6. Chapter 6

_A few weeks later:_

They were now nearing the end of October, and as the weather outside continued to get colder, Dean found himself spending more and more time in the café. Okay, so that was mostly just to watch his boyfriend work, but it was a plus that it was warm in the place. He was with Cas now, during one of Cas' breaks; they were sitting at one of the two-seat tables by one of the two big windows that lined the wall opposite the counter. Dean was drinking another caramel espresso mocha while catching up on some class reading on his tablet. Cas was reading the newspaper.

Dean had just started to take a sip of his coffee when Cas spoke:

“Isn’t it time we start having sex?”

Dean’s immediate resulting spit take was epic, and ended with him cleaning up the spatters on his tablet and the table while coughing. Once done, he looked at Cas who was still looking at his newspaper; he had not seen the epic spit take and Dean was just a tiny bit disappointed by this.

“Excuse me?” Dean asked with great incredulity, referring to Cas’ comment.

Cas put down his newspaper.

“Sex. You, me, we’ve been going out for a few weeks, shouldn’t we be having sex by now?”

Dean took a breath. While Cas still had many moments where he was insecure, he was gaining confidence more and more each day. Dean hoped that someday it might stop taking him so off guard; the guy deserved to feel good about himself after all.

Cas’ words echoed in his head, bringing him back to the present, and he found himself wondering if the guy was a virgin; it’d sounded like something a virgin would say.

As if reading his mind…

“I’m not a virgin.”

Dean blinked, and apparently his face was giving him away left and right today because the next thing Cas said:

“No, I cannot read minds. I just put myself in your shoes for a second and if you had said what I’d said, I’d wonder if you were a virgin, ‘cos it does sound like something a virgin might say. But, yeah, no, definitely not a virgin over here, and in case you’re wondering, I am gay, not bisexual, so…I know my way around in bed with a guy.”

Dean’s mouth had fallen open; it took a bit to get his brain restarted just to close it again. Caught up now, he struggled for full composure.

“That’s, ahem, that’s good, Cas.”

Nerves twisted in his stomach, and Dean realized just how _serious_ this was getting. He’d fooled around before but there was something…different…about it this time. Probably because unlike Cas, he’d never slept with a dude before, and he was anxious about doing it wrong. Also because unlike with the other women, this was not just a fling; sex actually meant something between the two of them, and that certainly was a first, too. He wanted it, of course, but he…and he couldn’t believe he was actually thinking this…he wasn’t quite ready yet.

“We will, Cas,” he said, attempting to sound reassuring but ending up sounding nervous and unsure to his own ears; if he heard it, so had Cas.

Cas smiled a little, but looked like he didn’t really believe him; he said nothing in return and resumed reading his newspaper.

 _Damn it, you blew it,_ Dean thought to himself, studying Cas for a little bit before returning his attention to his tablet. _Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

The discussion was on his mind all day, like a gnat in his brain refusing to leave him alone. It bothered the ever living shit out of him that Cas had had such bad experiences before that had rendered him unable to trust now; he wanted Cas to know that he, Dean Ackles, wasn’t one of _those guys_. He’d meant what he’d said, god damn it! He hadn’t hesitated because he didn’t want sex, he’d hesitated because he was nervous about his first time with a guy.

That evening, every time Dean got up the nerve to call Cas to clarify that, he chickened out. Time kept slipping away from him, the minutes ticking on by reminding him that the longer he waited the worse he was making this situation. Cas deserved to know he was desirable sexually as well as emotionally. They were doing so well with the romantic/emotional aspect of their relationship; Dean had to believe the physical aspects could be the same. It was going to take a lot of work, though.

As he reached for the phone for about the fiftieth time, a knock sounded on his door, causing him to start which caused him to fall off his bed and hit the floor with a solid _thud_.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice, laced to the core with concern, called out.

Dean’s heart, as always, skipped a beat upon hearing that sweet voice.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean called out. He reached the door, opened it. “You don’t have to knock, you know, you can come right in.”

Cas said nothing about that, instead walking into the room and asking if Dean was ready. Dean looked at him, his memory blanking.

“Ready for what?”

Cas met his gaze, and every fiber in Dean’s being wanted to kiss him.

“The Halloween party you insisted on taking me to, even though I hate the things. You said it’d be fun for us. How do you not remember that?”

Oh, right, the party. How _had_ he forgotten? Parties, not that long ago, had been his whole world; was he changing?

“Right, right, sorry, I’m distracted.”

“Fair enough; we should get going, though.”

It wasn’t lost on Dean the distance suddenly between them. It was now or never.

“Cas, I didn’t hesitate this morning because I don’t want to have sex with you. I swear I really want to. I just. I’ve never. I’ve never been with a guy and. I’m just. I’m nervous.”

Cas blinked with surprise, then seemed to relax.

“Really?”

Dean’s heart ached; poor Cas…all this time he’d thought the worst. God, those other guys were such fucktwats for having hurt this poor soul like this.

Dean moved in close to Cas, noting the way Cas’ breathing caught much the same way his heart faltered. He placed his hands gently on Cas’ cheeks, smiled soft, and murmured:

“Really, really.”

He’d just about started to lean in when Cas, quite fast about it actually, beat him to it, locking those beautiful lips with his.

 _Party schmarty_ , Dean thought, wanting instead to just spend the night kissing his angel. And maybe more if that was in the cards, but there was no rush.

Cas was the one to pull away first just as Dean got it into his head to start trying to seduce him.

“We should get going, Dean.”

“Cas, really, we don’t have to go. You didn’t want to go anyway so why not just. Stay here? Or. Go to your place. Or to a movie. Or something. It’s just a party.”

Cas shook his head.

“I want to go to the party.”

“But _why?_ ”

“Because, Dean, I’m curious about how your life was before you met me. Your friends, or at least those you hung out with.”

“It was booze, booze, more booze, and fucking whatever lady I could get to go home with me. It was all meaningless.”

Dean actually found himself dreading Cas seeing that other side of him, a side he now despised ever being.

“I still want to go.”

Dean sighed, sensing there was no winning this.

“Fine.”

“I’m not going to judge you, if that’s what you’re concerned with. You seem to think I haven’t seen some stuff. Believe me, Dean, I’ve seen some stuff.”

Dean doubted that.

“Have you seen a guy fucking a girl in an alleyway who answers his cellphone and starts flirting with the girl who called, without stopping?”

Cas took his hand and started towards the room’s doorway.

“I’ve seen, and done, far worse than that.”

“I’ve been part of a group fuck.”

Cas looked at him and heaved a sigh, one of those _"ugh, fine, if you insist we do this"_ sighs.

“Dean, I’ve done meth _and_ heroin at the same time while getting fucked in the ass by two dudes _at the same time_  while a third gave me a blowjob.”

Dean stared at Cas with an expression of absolute…he couldn’t even define what he was feeling.

“It’s just a party. Now come on.”

Thoughts didn’t return to Dean until about halfway there which was when he spotted the graveyard they’d have to skirt around to get to their destination. An idea struck him.

“Let’s go through it.”

“Through what, Dean?” Cas looked around them, saw the graveyard, and got it. “Oh, the graveyard. You want to go through the graveyard?”

“Why not? It’s Halloween. It’s night time. The moon is full and shining unobstructed by clouds. It’s just spooky enough.”

 

Cas knew what lay in that particular graveyard, and he was determined to do whatever it took to get Dean to not see it.

 

“Eh, I don’t know, Dean,” Cas half-groaned. “Isn’t it, like, bad luck or something?”

Dean regarded Cas with a mild _what the hell_ expression.

“It’s not Friday the thirteenth, dude. It’s Halloween.”

“Still, it doesn’t feel right. I mean those are final resting places, it’s rude to just…trample through just to feel some mild heebie jeebies.”

Dean became suspicious.

“Cas, why don’t you want to go through the graveyard?”

“Because I don’t, Dean.”

“Obviously, but _why?_ ”

“You know what. Let's go through the graveyard, whatever, I don’t care.” With a huff, Cas started towards the entrance.

Now Dean felt bad.

“Okay, I changed my mind.”

“Too late, Dean!”

Dean sighed. He was fucking up left and right today, it seemed.

“Are you going to make me go through this alone?” Cas demanded from the entrance, turning back towards him.

“Coming,” Dean replied, resigned. “Cas, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Cas muttered as Dean passed him.

Dean decided to ignore it. Couples had bad nights, it happened, and he guessed tonight was one for them.

 

He’d almost made it through the graveyard, Cas sullen and silent beside him, when a car passed and the headlights lit up a tombstone that just happened to catch Dean’s eye. As he went over, thinking what he’d seen couldn’t _possibly_ be right, he missed Cas’ expression of _"here we go"_. Closer to it now, Dean was able to clearly see the inscription on the tombstone.

 

_Here lies Castiel Collins._

_Taken too soon._

_1894-1919_

 

Dean read the inscription…re-read it, re-read it again. No matter how many times his brain went over the info, it couldn’t make any sense of any of the words.

“…C…Cas? What...?”

Cas, standing beside him now, let out a breath.

“I’m dead, Dean.”

Dean choked, feeling like all of his blood had frozen over.

Dead?

_Dead??_


	7. Chapter 7

Silence settled between them for so long that when a car suddenly turned onto one of the streets near the graveyard, Dean started.

Desperate to make logical sense of this, Dean grasped at the most obvious explanation:

“This is a prank, isn’t it?”

The look on Cas’ face told him he was wrong.

But…

_Dead??_

“H…I…” Dean read the inscription again, and abruptly realized his heart was breaking. He looked back at Cas, standing beside him. Tentatively, Dean reached out and touched Cas’ shoulder. It felt real.

“Cas, if this is a prank, it’s really not funny.”

“Dean, I wish to hell this was a prank, but it really isn’t.”

“But I can touch you!”

“Yeah, well, turns out the only real difference between ghosts and the living is that, well, ghosts are dead, frozen.”

Dean’s brain shorted out.

“ _What??”_

“You’ve never noticed that I don’t eat, or drink, or require the use of a bathroom.”

Dean really hadn’t, actually.

God, his head was beginning to hurt.

“But. Ghosts are not supposed to be of this plane. They’re not solid.”

“Myth.”

“Earlier, when you mentioned what you’d done in the past, was that before or after…?” Meekly, Dean gestured to the tombstone to get across what he couldn’t say.

“After.”

But…

“Ah!” Dean put his hands on his head. “ _How???_ ”

“I don’t know, Dean.”

“You said you’re frozen. Dead. Nothing internal of yours works. That means you couldn’t possibly…”

“But I can.”

“How?!”

“I don’t know!”

“God! I need to sit.” Spotting a bench nearby, Dean walked over and plopped down, ignoring the brief flare of pain his ass felt from hitting the concrete. Cas joined him without a word.

“You can’t be dead.”

Cas let out a resigned groan.

“Why are you dragging this prank out?” Dean demanded.

“Because it’s not a fucking prank.”

Dean looked at him shocked by the tone.

“Why the fuck are _you_ getting angry?! If anyone has any right to get angry here, it’s me!”

“I’m not angry, I’m frustrated.”

“Oh, sorry, you’re _frustrated.”_

Cas sent him a glare. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m not making this easy for you, finding out about your death! God, what a jerk I am.”

“Stop it!”

“I CAN’T!” Aware that he needed to get the fuck away from this place, Dean got to his feet. When Cas started to follow, Dean barked at him not to, and stalked off. He got as far as the café. Something about that sign caused him to lose it. He let out a scream so not like him, fell to his knees, and let the sobs heave out of him. He couldn’t understand why it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, why he was reacting like he’d just lost the most important piece of him. It’d only been a few weeks, for God’s sake.

Yet he cried, and it took a long time to stop.

When he finally got enough control over himself, he got to his feet, swayed, and pondered between going to the dorm and sleeping this nightmare away or going to the bar and drinking this nightmare away.

“Dean,” Cas said from behind him before he could.

Dean turned, and all over again his brain fought the knowledge that the very realistic being standing before him was…dead…

“How old are you?” Dean blurted out.

“Twenty-five,” Cas answered at first, paused, then added: “Well, that’s how old I was when I died. I’ve been twenty-five for a hundred years.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Anger started to seep back in.

“You’re fucking selfish, you know that?”

Cas didn’t fight that.

“I mean. You didn’t tell me because you obviously wanted to be with me and seeing I wanted to be with you, you were gonna take what you could get. You were going to lead me on. How fucking _dare_ you?!”

“I didn’t ask for this, Dean! Any of it! I didn’t ask to die! I didn’t ask to get fucking stuck like this! I didn’t ask for you to walk into my life. I certainly didn’t ask to fall in love with you but here I am! You’re not the only one suffering, jackass!”

“How the fuck did I fall in love with you so fast??”

Cas blinked, looking floored.

“What?”

Realizing what he’d just said, Dean took a step back, panicking in his mind.

“You should’ve told me!” Was the only thing he could think to say.

Cas gave him a knowing look.

“Would you have dated someone who announced to you that they were actually dead?”

Dean tried to deny it but…

Cas gestured to him. “Exactly. Yeah, it was selfish. And I’m sorry. I am. But it’s done. So if you’re going to walk away, you might as well do it now before either of us actually get to the point where it’s impossible to heal.”

A tear ran down Dean’s cheek.

“It’s too late,” he murmured, “and you know it.”

Cas visibly swallowed then looked down at his hands. Dean saw the tear roll down Cas’ cheek.

“You’re crying.”

Cas bitterly laughed.

“Yeah, I am. You’ve seen me cry before, Dean.”

“But…that…can’t…be possible.”

Cas’ expression changed to one of exasperation.

“Well, Dean, clearly it’s possible. Ignoring the evidence doesn’t make it any less true.”

“But how?!”

“Oh my GOD, _I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!_ STOP ASKING ME THAT! Jesus fucking Christ.”

The silence after the outburst somehow sounded louder than the actual outburst.

Dean tried to think of what to say but his brain was thoroughly stuck on Cas being dead yet looking so very alive, while his heart was marveling that it was in love for the first time in a very long time, which subsequently was also causing it a lot of pain, because there was no way this relationship could go anywhere. Dean would continue to age and Cas would remain young forever.

So…what now?

They stood there in silence, staring at each other, each feeling the same heartbreak.

So. What now?

“I need to…” What? What did he need to do?

Cas nodded. “Fine.”

_Kiss him, hug him, touch him, SOMETHING Dean. Don’t let it end like this._

“Yeah.”

Neither moved.

“Cas?”

“What?”

…What, indeed?

Why couldn’t Dean walk away? Cas was clearly going to let him go if he left now, and yet he felt no desire to walk away from this. Logic screamed bloody murder that this was a very pointless thing to pursue, but his heart, his poor heart was louder still, stronger. He’d never been in love before, and yet he was sure that’s what he was feeling, because…despite Cas being dead, despite this being pointless, despite every logical thing that made sense, Dean didn’t want to walk away. Dean still wanted him.

Did that make him sick?

“Walk away, Dean,” Cas said, sounding on the verge of a breakdown, “Now. Go find someone else. Someone alive. Someone who can give you what I can’t.”

Dean didn’t move.

“Dean, god damn it!”

For some reason that spurred him, though not in the way Cas had wanted. Dean started towards him.

“Fuck it,” he stated.

“Dean, what—” Cas lips were busy before he could finish the sentence. Tears escaped down both men’s cheeks and neither cared. They grasped each other as close as they could manage, trying to be as absolutely passionate as they could muster. To the outside world, it didn’t look very pretty, but that was irrelevant.

They were in love. Nothing else mattered.

 

“Dean, please,” Cas whispered. “Don’t do this.”

Dean closed his eyes, forehead rested against Cas’. “I know. But I can’t. It’s too late.”

“It’s not.”

“You know damn well it is, for both of us.”

Cas sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Dean kissed him again, softly.

“Can we just go to bed? Forget this for a while?”

“Forget that I’m dead? Kind of hard for me to do, Dean, seeing as how I have to live like this.”

“Cas, for the love of god, please. Just for tonight. Please.”

“Alright. Fine. What does that mean, then?”

“Can we spend the night together?”

Cas met his gaze.

“I. Uhm. Don’t sleep.”

Dean let out a hysterical laugh.

“Right. Of course. Christ.” He heaved out a breath. “Okay, whatever, I sleep while you, I don’t know, read or something. I just need to be with you tonight.”

Apparently Cas felt the same way, because he didn’t argue, instead lead Dean by hand into the café, up the stairs into the apartment, then the bedroom. They did not make love, instead merely got into bed once stripped down to their underwear, Cas accepting Dean into his arms. Dean fell asleep almost instantly despite Cas being cold. It was better than being alone with his thoughts.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Dean woke up the following morning and while some might expect that he’d be disoriented, he knew exactly where he was. The part that confused him was the fact that he was lying in bed _alone_. Not a morning person by any means, it took Dean a solid five minutes of staring at the clock that now said it was ten-fifteen in the morning, and Saturday, for his brain to realize where Cas had gone.

On the heels of that came the memory of Cas being…dead…a ghost.

 _I slept with a de…a ghost last night,_ Dean thought, wondering how he’d feel if he and Cas had actually had sex.

Over and over again in his mind, the question of “how” kept bothering him. How was Cas so solid? How was he unable to eat, drink, sleep, but able to have sex, to have an orgasm? He even breathed! Dean wanted to ask Cas again, but knew that was a dead end, one that would result in Cas being annoyed with him all over again.

_And why can’t I just walk away?_

Why? How? Ugh, _damn it._

Dean got out of bed, found the bathroom, did his business, decided to use the shower and realized that was kind of pointless since he had to put on dirty clothing again but, meh, whatever. Downstairs, the café was practically empty. Cas greeted him with a wary, timid smile and cup of steaming coffee.

“How much?” Dean asked.

“On the house.”

“Oh!” Dean’s heart skipped a beat. “Thanks.”

He took a sip of the coffee; it was just regular coffee with creamer but it was delicious. He looked at Cas. Cas looked at him. Silence seemed to be the new thing between them.

“So. How’d you sleep?” Cas asked eventually.

“I slept fine. How was your night?”

“It was nice.”

“Do you feel cold?”

Surprised, Cas didn’t answer right away.

“Uh. Not really. I don’t really feel anything, temperature-wise.”

“But you can still feel.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you feel when someone touches you?”

He nodded.

“Can you feel when you touch something?”

He nodded again.

"You can use chairs and tables, utensils, et cetera?"

Another nod.

“Do you ejaculate when you have an orgasm?"

Cas took a breath, let it out loudly. 

"Yes, Dean."

"So you can do that, but you can’t pee.”

“Broken record, Dean.”

“Sorry.”

Sensing what was coming next, Cas jumped in before Dean could ask.

“Please don’t ask me how. I’m so tired of being asked how.”

Dean nodded, his gaze slipping to his coffee.

“So, I’m not the first,” he realized aloud.

“Michelle knows. My friends know. Some of them are dead themselves, actually.”

 _Gah!_ Dean resisted the urge to wince. This was so fucked up.

“Cool.”

“You’re freaking out.”

Dean looked up at him finally.

“I don’t want to be. You deserve better than that.”

Cas took the cup out of Dean’s hands, set it on the counter, placed his hands on Dean’s cheeks (his hands were cold), said:

“I love you for trying.”

And kissed him.

 _I love you_ , Dean heard from that sentence.

 _I love you_ : words that had never been spoken to him beside his parents. Words that made him weak in the knees now. Words that made him willing to forget the guy kissing him was not alive.

Cas pulled away far too soon, and Dean leaned back in, not done yet.

“I love you,” he [Dean] whispered back before resuming the kiss. This felt so real. And yet…

 _I’m kissing a ghost,_ his brain insisted. _Why am I enjoying this? This is very disturbing._

A jingle from the bell broke the kiss in an instant. Dean let Cas leave his arms, took his cup off the counter, and watched Cas work. Watched as Cas interacted with the customer with a smile and a pleasant attitude, watched as he wrote down the order, as he took a cup and wrote the customer’s name on it, watched as he used the equipment necessary to make the drink, having absolutely no problems whatsoever with any of this. His hand didn’t suddenly turn transparent and go through anything; it was as solid as Dean’s own.

A ghost…interacting with the living world…

_How???_

God, that question was going to drive him crazy. Surely there had to be a way to find out? But…where? Going to the library seemed too out of the question. Far as he knew there were no occult shops. So h—

Sam. Sam would know. Or, at least, he could find out. …Of course…that meant… _calling_ him.

Dean groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, going over to him.

Dean didn’t answer at first, lost in thought about how that phone call was going to go.

“Dean?”

Snapping out of it, Dean realized belatedly that Cas had been speaking to him.

“Sorry, sorry. I have to call my brother.”

Cas’ eyebrows came together in his confusion and he did the most adorable little head tilt. Every nerve in Dean’s body lit right the fuck up, and all at once, he _wanted_ Cas. He wanted so very much to kiss the guy, to strip him off his clothing, to be inside him, to come with him, to share that intimacy…dead or not.

“If anyone could find out how, it’d be him." 

Cas understood.

“Lemme know how it goes.”

Right, right.

Dean didn’t move, his body still wanting Cas, his mind, however, unwilling to get the words out. Cas _might_ say yes.

Cas laughed softly, unaware of Dean’s dilemma.

“Go, Dean. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Realizing he had an out, realizing he _needed_ that out, Dean forced a smile, thanked him, turned, and walked out of the café, ignoring the screaming desire still coursing through his veins.

A thought he'd been trying to ignore pushed its way to the front of his mind, an unpleasant one: _the end is inevitable_. 

 

“Hello?” Sam’s tired voice sounded on the other end.

Dean resisted the strong urge to hang up.

“Hey, Sammy, it’s Dean,” he said instead.

“Oh. Hi, Dean.”

 _Right in the gut_ , Dean thought, grimacing. He sat in his dorm room on his bed, his heart going a mile a minute. He hated this.

“Dean, what do you want?”

“I can’t call to check in on my little brother?”

“Sure you can, but you never have, so why are you starting now?”

Hating the tone, Dean still fought the urge to snap at his brother. He needed to play nice, or he was going to go insane with all the questions he had that nobody seemed able to answer.

“People can change, Sam.” Dean internally sighed at the dry tone. _Damn it._

As predicted, Sam’s defenses went up even higher.

“Dean, I am a very busy guy right now. I don’t appreciate you wasting my time like this. If you’re not going to tell me what you really want, I’m going to hang up. Don’t call me again.”

“Wait!” Dean exclaimed, the desperation taking him over in seconds, “wait, I did call for a reason, and I’m sorry I don’t check up on you.”

A sigh.

“What do you want?”

“I need to find out whatever I can about ghosts.”

“Ghosts??”

Dean ground his teeth at the hidden laughter behind Sam’s surprised tone, that damn judgmental laughter…

“Yeah, Sam, ghosts. You’re a lot better at the research thing than I am.”

“Why would I help you, Dean? You’ve never done anything for me.”

“Fine, I’ll start, what do you want in return?”

“For starters, I want a damn brother that _actually_ checks up on me. God knows that’ll never happen, so good bye Dean.”

The ability to breathe left him.

“Sammy! Please!”

Silence greeted him for a moment, and just when Dean was sure his brother, his fucking condescending _holier-than-thou-attitude_ brother had rightfully hung up on him, Sam spoke, his tone much softer.

“Why the desperate interest? This is unlike you.”

_You’re telling me, pal._

“Just. I.” Dean sighed. “It’s a lot to get into over the phone and aren’t you busy anyway?”

“Following that reasoning, Dean, how would I have time to find this research you ask for?”

 _Fucking damn it, Sam, you god damn_ lawyer _!_

Dean fought his temper back, willing some patience for himself again; Sam knew how to push his buttons, knew very well.

“The gist of it is, my boyfriend is a ghost and I need to know how the hell it all works. Because he doesn’t know and he’s sick of me asking him how. It’s a very sore subject for him.”

Silence greeted him again.

“Sam?”

Dean waited for about three minutes, then tried again.

“Sam…?”

“Boyfriend?” Sam whispered.

 _Oh, hell, here we go,_ Dean thought.

“Yeah.”

“You. Dean Ackles. You, a self-proclaimed ladies man, a pussy magnet, a pussy destroyer, you? Have a boyfriend? A _boyfriend_? Someone with a penis? Someone with facial hair? Someone who doesn’t shave? Someone who doesn’t smell sweet the way women tend to?”

 _Actually, Sam, Cas has a very pleasant smell to him_ , Dean wanted to say, but said nothing.

“You’re fucking a guy?”

“Sam, would you just…”

“Oh my god, you’re actually fucking a guy! Oh hell. Dad would fucking _kill_ you if he found out. And a ghost? Jesus, what in the hell, Dean?”

“You’re not going to tell him.”

“I just might.” Sam laughed. “That’d be hilarious.”

“Oh, yeah, Sam, I’m sure my death will be the funniest…” Realizing that, if he died, that meant he, too, could be a ghost…

No! No, no, no. That was wrong. That was so very, very wrong.

“I can’t believe you just went there,” Sam said, all humor gone.

“I…”

“Who _is_ this guy??”

Dean chuckled weakly.

“Believe me, I’ve been asking myself that ever since I met the fucker.”

“You care about him, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Sam, I do. A lot.”

_I love him._

A slight hesitation, then:

“Alright, I’ll see what I can find. Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You owe me one helluva explanation.”

“Fair enough, Sam. Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Sam hung up.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

 _What is wrong with me?_ He wondered yet again. 


	9. Chapter 9

After the phone call, Dean became aware of a feeling of intense impatience. He wanted to call back right _now_ and ask if Sam had found any answers even though he knew this was very illogical. Instead, he forced himself to get out his homework and do that. He couldn’t focus worth a damn in the silence of the dorm, so he got on the Spotify app—the only thing he actually paid premium for so he could use it unhindered on his phone—put in the headphones, and started his classic rock playlist; loud enough to drown out the thoughts but not to be distracting.

He got his work done in record time.

Of course, this left him with the problem of what to do while waiting for the answers. He wanted to go back to the café but unless Cas was on break, they couldn’t really speak. A glance at his watch told him it was only noon. Cas didn’t get off work for another two hours.

_How? How is it possible, dude? He’s—_

_STOP!_

Dean put his hands to his head and groaned. There had to be something he could do to distract himself…but…what?? His work was done and he had Saturdays and Sundays off from both class.

 _Highway To Hell_ started playing, jolting Dean back into the present. Realizing it was his phone going off Dean dragged it out and answered.

“Yeah?”

“Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Help!”

Dean’s heart stopped. “What’s wrong?!”

“Michelle just called in, the crowd keeps getting larger, they’re getting angry, and I’m the only one here. Please! I need your help!”

Cas needn’t say more.

“I’ll be right there.” Dean was already out the door.

Getting there, Dean just about had an anxiety attack on the spot. The place was _crowded_ , and the people were indeed very agitated. He got several push backs trying to make his way to the counter, more than a few heated curses sent his way, all until he said he was there to help serve. And Cas. Oh, poor Cas. He had soared past anxiety and right into panic. He wasn’t even taking orders anymore, he was just standing against the far counter (where all the equipment lay), looking very much like a deer in headlights.

Dean’s heart practically threw itself at him.

“I’m here,” Dean’s whisper was urgent in Cas’ ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But I’ve never worked at a café before.”

Cas took some breaths, already calming down.

“It’s okay. Just take their orders, I’ll make them, and can you work a cash register?”

Thanks to a summer spent in a Walmart, Dean could. Cas looked relieved. Dean smiled at him.

“We got this, boo," he assured him. Cas smiled back and nodded.

It took them fifteen minutes to find a rhythm but once they did, there was no stopping them, and gradually the crowd calmed. It took a few hours for people to disperse completely, leaving them alone in the place, but once the last customer left, Dean went over to the door, turned the sign from open to closed, locked the door, and then turned around. He didn’t get any further than that, his lips suddenly _very_ busy.

Seconds after that, Dean got the intuition that something more was going to happen, and sure enough…

“Let’s go upstairs,” Cas breathed.

Cas had to so much as just look up into his eyes and Dean was sold.

“Upstairs sounds great.”

Completely unlike himself, Dean proceeded to scoop Cas up into his arms.

“Dean!” Cas exclaimed through his laughter, “what the fuck?”

He placed a kiss on those lips.

“Just go with it.”

“Mm.”

Dean carried him upstairs, needed no help unlocking the door (once Cas gave him the key, that is), and found the bedroom. In the doorway he paused, aware that he had made an assumption, and had not asked the most important question.

He looked at Cas, who was looking at him with great confusion.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Do you consent to this?” Dean asked him.

Dean actually witnessed Cas falling very hard very fast for him in that second.

“I do, do you?”

“I do.”

That now out of the way, Dean continued his way into the room, to the bed where he laid Cas down and got on top.

“Nut-uh,” Cas declared, flipping Dean over onto his back and straddling him. “I don’t bottom.”

Dean smiled wide.

“Then we have a problem cos I don’t bottom, either.”

Cas grinned down at him.

“You do now.”

Dean, who otherwise would’ve been horrified by this, was only turned on more.

“I won’t make it easy for you.”

Cas leaned down, lightly brushed his lips against Dean’s, and murmured:

“Bring it on.”

 

Their moans rose to a fever pitch within fifteen minutes. Had anyone been standing in the café below, they would’ve heard every plea, every moan, every single noise they made. Dean was completely at Cas’ mercy and never had he felt more comfortable. There was a moment, halfway there, when Cas asked if Dean wanted him [Cas] inside, about which Dean felt anxious until Cas smiled down at him, sweaty and bathed in sunlight from the window (looking like an absolute angel) and promised he’d be gentle. He was…at first. Once Dean’s body relaxed, Dean himself even requested he start going faster, harder, and pretty soon the room was filled once more with their intense coupling.

The orgasm Dean had felt had never been stronger.

Or the three he had after that; turned out they both had quite the stamina.

 

They lay afterwards in each other’s arms, the silence of the room astounding. Dean was in absolute heaven, his body drained and tingling with pleasure from his head to his toes.

Until his brain chirped up that he’d just had intense sex with a ghost.

“Oh shut _up_!” he hissed.

“Hm?” Cas—adorably sleepy against Dean’s chest—purred.

“Oh, sorry, not you.” Dean kissed Cas’ forehead.

“S’okay,” Cas mumbled, eyelids drooping already.

Dean felt his heart try to lurch out of his chest again. He was madly in love with the guy, completely his, absolutely no doubts about it.

His own eyelids began to droop. He didn’t fight it though he did, briefly, question Cas sleeping. He decided to ignore the thought in favor of sleep himself; he was exhausted.

 

One minute Dean was dreaming of making love with Cas on the beach ( _what a cliché_ , he was thinking), and the next he was dreaming that he was on a highway with “Highway To Hell” blaring from an unknown source.

Dean’s brain jolted itself awake as it realized his phone was going off.

Then Dean fell out of bed which woke Cas up.

Struck with a fit of uproarious laughter, he couldn’t answer when Cas asked if he was okay, and laughed more when Cas joined him in laughter. During their shared moment, Dean’s phone fell silent, and he forgot it’d ever gone off, concerned only with getting back into bed with his beloved.

 _Oi, I fell fast_ , Dean thought, not caring in the least bit. When it was right, it was right, as _that_ cliché goes.

Cas accepted him into his arms as their still-smiling lips met. Hard to kiss when smiling, so it didn’t last for long. Neither cared, they were just so content, so satisfied.

“So, how was your first time?” Cas asked him.

“Best ever,” Dean responded. “How was it for you?”

“Even better than that.”

Dean scoffed but was very pleased. They cuddled. It was only five in the afternoon, neither had any places to be. Dean had never felt a moment be more peaceful.

So peaceful, in fact, that he started when “ _Highway To Hell”_ once again started playing. Without a word, Dean left Cas’ wonderful embrace to dig his phone out of his pants.

“Hello,” he greeted, his mellow tone making Cas giggle, which of course wreaked havoc on his whole being. He sent Cas an exasperated look.

“What?” Cas returned, grinning.

Dean got so lost in marveling over the joy shining on Cas’ face that he completely missed the person on the phone speaking. That is until…

“DEAN!”

“Gah!” Dean jerked the phone away from his ear, momentarily annoyed. He put the phone back against his ear. “Jesus, don’t _do_ that.”

“Well, if you would learn to _listen_ , I wouldn’t have to,” Sam retorted dryly.

All at once, Dean’s mind became obsessed with whatever Sam had to tell him.

“Sammy! Great to hear from you! Hey, do you want to meet Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas hissed.

“What?” Dean asked him.

“I’m naked.”

Dean laughed at that.

“Hon, he can’t see you.”

“Still.” Cas’ expression turned pleading.

“Dean?” Sam asked, irritable.

“Nevermind, Sammy, he’s self-conscious.” _He’s so adorable. “_ So, whatcha got for me?”

Dean was all _too_ aware of Cas’ gaze on him, curious.

“It’d be easier to explain in person. We should meet up.”

“Oh, okay.” Dean checked his watch. “It’s only six, could it happen tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna have to, cos I got stuff to do tomorrow.”

“Right; where do you wanna meet?”

“Wherever you want.”

Dean knew just the place…mostly because it was super convenient for him and Cas (as in, right below them). Telling Sam this, and the address, Dean hung up and began to hunt for his clothes.

“Dean,” Cas inquired.

Dean stopped, looking up.

“Yeah Cas?”

“Why is Sam coming here?”

Oh, right…he hadn’t told him.

“Are you going to be mad if I said I called him asking him to do some research about ghosts?”

Cas was silent for a moment, and just as Dean was growing nervous, he shook his head.

“Honestly, I need to know, too.”

Dean relaxed.

“Good.”

He started to pick up his clothes again.

“Dean,” Cas perked up.

Dean sighed with amusement, wondering if he’d ever get clothes back on. He looked back at his beloved and smiled.

“What, Cas?”

“We should shower.”

Smelling himself, Dean realized Cas was right. He dropped the clothes he had in his right hand. With his left, he mentioned towards the door.

“Lead the way, sexy man.”

Cas’ cheeks blushed at this and Dean grinned as he followed him out of the room.

“Shut up,” Cas muttered, taking Dean’s hand once they were past the doorway.

Dean just continued grinning.


	10. Chapter 10

At roughly six-thirty, Sam walked into the café. Dean and Cas, busy making out behind the counter, had obviously not noticed Sam’s entrance.

Until he cleared his throat.

The pair parted as if electrocuted and, in perfect synchronization, looked towards the café’s entrance where Sam stood, shoulder bag hanging by its strap on, well, his shoulder; he was looking as if he felt very uncomfortable. Of course he did, who would not, at seeing their sibling making out with someone, whichever gender.

“Sammy!” Dean identified, leaving Cas’ side to go hug his brother.

Sam allowed it, his eyes on Cas the entire time.

Dean noticed when he pulled back.

“Sam, that is Cas. Cas, this is Sam.”

Cas went over to join them, hand extended, pleasant smile on his face.

“Nice to meet you, Sam.”

Sam shook the hand.

“You too.” He looked at Dean. “You seriously have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, Sam, I do. Are you ever going to move past that?”

Those words, not intended to be construed as a snipe, were perceived that way.

“Well, excuse me, Dean, if it takes me more than a few seconds to adjust to your liking dick!”

Cas looked at Dean for a moment, then looked anywhere else, now uncomfortable.

“Let’s just move on. Shall we?” Dean gestured towards one of the booths near the back of the café, to their left of the cash register.

Without answering, Sam led the way. Dean reached his hand out to Cas as Cas joined his side, heart skipping a beat when Cas’ fingers intertwined with his; his soul let out a soft sigh. Together, they sat opposite Sam, both of them eager, anxious, Dean especially so. Would the nagging questions finally be silenced?

Nothing happened. The three of them sat, staring at each other, just…staring. After five minutes, Dean lost his patience.

“Sam, come on!”

Sam took a breath.

“Dean, what I discovered—” he was interrupted by his phone ringing. He held up his forefinger and went to answer it. Dean groaned, putting his head on his arms atop the table. Cas rubbed his back; it felt nice.

“Thanks, Cas.”

The hand went to the back of his head, fingers threading themselves into his hair. It took Dean everything he had not to let out a moan. Sam was forgotten as Dean soon found his lips on Cas’.

“GUYS!” Sam yelled, causing them to jerk apart.

Dean shot him a glare.

“Dude, _what?_ You could’ve let us have a few minutes.”

“I _did_. I need to go, _now_. So here.” Sam reached into his shoulder bag he’d placed beside him on the booth, and pulled out a notebook; just one single notebook that he placed on the table between them.

Dean stared at it for a minute, then up at Sam who was already halfway out of his booth.

“Uhm, Sam, what’s this?”

“Notes.”

“Right.”

“I found a _lot_ of info, and I was going to explain it all to you, I know how you hate to read,” Dean scoffed at that, casting a self-conscious side glance at Cas who hadn't heard anyway, too busy staring intently at the notebook, “but there’s an emergency at school and I need to help out so,” Sam tapped the notebook, “this will clear up most of the questions I’m sure you have. Cas, nice to meet you.”

Cas didn’t glance up.

“You, too,” he intoned.

Dean watched Sam hurry on out of there, and then looked back at the notebook. All at once, he didn’t want to know; he wanted to take the thing and burn it. The phrase _“point of no return”_ came to mind, and he could not ignore it.

Cas, however, was transfixed by the item. As Dean watched, Cas tentatively reached out and brushed his fingertips against the bright blue cover. Tears welled in his eyes as he drew back his hand. He took in a shaky breath and the next words uttered astounded Dean.

“I need to go, please let me out.”

Dean moved without a second’s hesitation, wanting to ask him what was wrong but not finding the words before Cas was already up the stairs, gone from sight.

His gaze drew back to the notebook, and curiosity won out. He sat down, pulled it within comfort’s range, opened it, and began to read.

 

 _Okay so, there’s been a_ LOT _of lore surrounding ghosts, and believe you me it was not easy filtering out the bullshit from the science, but here’s the gist; ghosts can interact with our world. The way they do that is kind of complex, but I’ll try to simplify it._

_Basically, there are two living planes of existence in our universe; one of the living, and one of the ghosts. When someone dies, they transcend to the ghost plane. I’m sure you’ve heard this before, it’s in every single ghost movie ever made, basically; so they got that part right._

_Now, the REASON ghosts in our world can interact with our world is that the two planes of existence are intertwined, rather than parallels. I don’t know how to better explain. If you’re reading these notes then I’m not there to show you, but it’s basically like…instead of holding your hands parallel to each other… I mean if you hold your left hand over your right, go on, try it…_

Dean did not, as he could easily follow this; he was annoyed Sam thought he needed visual aids.

_Okay instead of that, it’s more like when you intertwine your hands together…like…if you were holding another’s hand, with the fingers intertwined. I don’t know if you’re understanding what I’m saying, and if you don’t, call me and I’ll try to stop by to show you._

“I’m not an idiot, asshole,” Dean muttered, annoyance growing. His brother was so damn condescending. Of course he understood! Realizing, however, that he was letting his pride distract, Dean swallowed it, and went back to the reading. There were more important matters to attend to, after all.

_My point is our world is basically the same as their world, same for their world regarding ours. I mean that’s why you can touch Cas, why Cas can touch you. I’m not sure why there’s a separate plane for them if basically nothing else has changed but here we are, I guess._

_Now the only thing I could not, for the life of me, find an explanation for is how they’re able to perform certain, erm, functions. I don’t want any details about your relationship with him, and it pains me having to consider that at all, but body functions cease upon death, and maybe that’s why they have a separate plane of existence? I dunno. Anyway…really…he should not be able to have sex, at all. There is no blood flowing in those veins so he shouldn’t be able to get boners, and there’s no sperm being made to, ya know, actually ejaculate. I'm sure you noticed he still breathes. It's not because his lungs work. It's purely a comfort thing. Most ghosts don't even realize they're doing it._

_So that’s the gist of it. Sorry I can’t explain everything, but I hope this quiets some of those nagging questions of yours._

_Oh! I forgot to mention. People who die that became ghosts…become so when they chose to stay here, usually unconsciously done so. In death, they get a choice, unfortunately not much of one. The littlest thing will keep them from moving on. If someone is even slightly sad, regretful, angry (etc) about their death, that anger, or whatever emotion, will keep them from moving on until they let go or find the answers they seek. Some ghosts aren’t aware that they’re even hanging on like that. They usually only get one chance to go but I did find evidence that some have special circumstances where they do get a second chance. I don’t know Cas’ situation, so I don’t know why he’s here or if he's entitled for that second chance or not. That’s something you’re gonna have to find out. Yes, this means research. Deal with it, I’m busy. I barely had time to find all this for you._

_And Dean? Be careful. These things don’t usually end well._

At the end of that, Dean was…he didn’t have the right word. He sat back against the booth, staring at the notebook and not really seeing it. Part of him was straining to hear what Cas was doing in the apartment above him but most of him…most of him was just…

_These things don’t usually end well._

His gaze slowly traveled up to the ceiling, wondering where Cas was at the moment. Was he in his living room? In bed? Was he watching TV? Sitting in the dark? He understood so much more now; the pain, the depression, the sensitivity. 

He got out his phone and texted Cas, asking if he could come up. Cas replied within a few minutes.

 _Please_.

Dean practically flew towards the stairs. Halfway up them, he realized he left the notebook on the booth, and ran back down to get it.

At the apartment door, Cas opened it and his attention was drawn right to the notebook Dean held.

“I didn’t want that up here.”

Guilt speared him.

“I…I didn’t…want to risk someone seeing it. Michelle or your customers…uhm.” Seeing the flaw in his plan, as in _where to put the damned notebook,_ Dean struggled to find a solution.

“Michelle already knows, remember, but good thinking about the customers. Look, Dean, uhm, I thought I wanted you to stay tonight, but I think…I need to be alone.”

Dean blinked. Cas hadn’t even read the notes, why was he acting so weird?

“Cas, if I may ask, why are you so upset?”

Cas’ mood suddenly changed. With an irritated look, Cas sniped at Dean:

“You try dying and see how _you_ feel about the whole thing!” He slammed the door in Dean’s face, leaving the man to stand in the hallway, absolutely stunned.

And worried as hell. After briefly touching the door that stood between them, Dean let out a sigh and walked towards the stairs. He didn’t want to, but sometimes space really was what someone needed. He only hoped that this indeed was the case this time, because if Cas was just putting up a façade, actually desiring Dean to defy his wishes…well…things might go even further south.

 

Cas stared at the door for several minutes after he slammed it, sure Dean would walk through, completely disrespecting his wishes. Dean didn’t, and Cas on the one hand felt his heart love Dean just a little more for it. On the other, it meant he was alone, and he hadn’t realized how…dangerous that was tonight.

Touching that notebook, he hadn't magically seen what was written inside, but he caught the strangest feeling that there was…something…missing? He couldn’t describe the feeling he had felt, the feeling he still felt now. Something was off. For the first time since his death, Cas found himself actually desiring, again, (there’d been a brief period, right after, to know what happened, but he never got around to looking into it for some reason) to know how he’d died, and it pained him; more than it had when he’d watched guys walk on out of his life after having meaningless fun with him, those one time experiences they’d never have again.

No, this pain was deeper, and Cas wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was at the end of this particular path, should he choose to go down it. He let out a groan that sounded perilously close to tortured, sinking onto his couch and burying his face into a pillow; the tears came swiftly after that, staying until morning. He was so sick of crying.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is intentional that Sam's notes are being repeated in this chapter. I thought it might add to the story, but feel free to skip that section if you'd like. It's really just more of a "previously on..." type of thing, a memory refresher.
> 
> **POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING** Suicide is mentioned as part of a discussion. If this is a trigger (sorry for triggering you in these notes) I have put a bold warning just before the paragraph that contains the content, with instructions to skip and where to skip to, if you wish to read the rest of this chapter. The content is towards the end of the chapter.

On Sunday, the following day, Dean woke early again and marveled once more at the many ways he was changing since he’d met Cas, which led to him getting out his cell phone and freezing just as he was about to dial the number. Should he call or did Cas need more time? The notebook that was stirring up everything sat on his dresser at the end of the bed, the cover only blue but blaring nonetheless as if it was red to Dean’s brain today; he was all _too_ aware of it. His gaze switched between the two, the phone, the notebook, the phone, the notebook. It wasn’t even two minutes of this when he finally got fed up, dialed the number, and hit send. As soon as the line began to ring, Dean chickened out, hung up, and placed the phone face down on the bed beside his right leg.

It wasn’t long before he was picking it up and starting over again, only to chicken out. Repeat this three more times, and it was really no surprise when his phone began to ring and that it was Cas calling.

Dean automatically answered and greeted him before his brain caught up to his previous anxiety that he’d had about this phone call in the first place.

“Dean, why did you call me and hang up five times?”

“Uhm.” He really didn’t have an explanation.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“What’s going on with you? You’re acting weird.”

Dean really wanted to deny that, but of course Cas was right.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Is this about last night?”

 _Yes!_ Dean’s brain enthused. _Tell him that._

Dean remained silent.

Silence greeted him.

_Say something, you moron._

Dean did not.

“Look, I’m—” Cas began.

All at once, it came out:

“I’m scared you’re mad at me.”

“M-mad? Why…why would—”

“Because what if you asked me to leave but really you wanted me to stay but, like an idiot, I left instead of staying and this let you down and what if you’re starting to realize that I’m not a good boyfriend I mean I’ve never really been a boyfriend, not like this, I’m clueless I don’t know how to do this and what if you—”

“Dean!” A soft laugh that melted every bone within his body, “Dean, relax. I’m not upset about that. Like, at all. I mean, sure a part of me wished you’d defy my wishes but,” at Dean’s groan Cas immediately went to soothe, “hey, no, it’s okay, it is. I’m glad you listened to me. I actually found myself loving you more ‘cos you did.”

Dean heard the words, but couldn’t believe them.

“Really?”

“Really, Dean. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

“Why?? You didn’t do anything.”

“I did; I kicked you out.”

“You _requested_ I give you space, that’s hardly kicking me out.”

“Really?”

Dean had to laugh at the turned tables.

“Really, Cas.”

Silence fell between them. After a couple minutes, Dean carefully treaded into the unknown territory.

“So…are we okay?”

“We’re better than okay, I swear,” Cas promised.

He found his lips turning up into a smile.

“Okay, good. How are you, by the way?”

“I’ve had better days. I’m actually glad I have today off. I’d not make it through my shift.”

That sounded…well…bad.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah, actually, bring the notebook, meet me in the park.”

He was surprised by this.

“You _want_ the notebook?”

“I don’t want it, not at all, but what it contains…I _need_ to read, whether or not I like it, so. Meet me in the park around ten, sound good?”

“I’ll be there,” Dean promised.

 

Dean was a little early to the park, and was convinced he’d have to wait for Cas; he was wrong. He spotted him sitting on a park bench near a large group of birds (because Cas was feeding them), and stopped his advance to watch. It was a favorite thing of his, watching Cas be around nature; it was pure, simple, beautiful.

About five minutes in, the spell was broken when Cas looked up, saw Dean, looked momentarily puzzled before breaking out in that smile that convinced Dean he could save the world for this one guy, then made a ‘come here’ gesture, his movement scaring off the birds. Dean obliged, taking a seat next to him. They shared a brief kiss, during which Cas snuck the notebook from Dean’s grasp. When the kiss finished, and Dean opened his eyes, he watched in anxious silence as Cas opened the notebook and began to read, his mouth silently forming the words as he read them.

 _Okay so, there’s been a_ LOT _of lore surrounding ghosts, and believe you me it was not easy filtering out the bullshit from the science, but here’s the gist; ghosts can interact with our world. The way they do that is kind of complex, but I’ll try to simplify it. _ _Basically, there are two living planes of existence in our universe; one of the living, and one of the ghosts. When someone dies, they transcend to the ghost plane. I’m sure you’ve heard this before, it’s in every single ghost movie ever made, basically; so they got that part right._

 _Now, the REASON ghosts in our world can interact with our world is that the two planes of existence are intertwined, rather than parallels. I don’t know how to better explain. If you’re reading these notes then I’m not there to show you, but it’s basically like…instead of holding your hands parallel to each other… I mean if you hold your left hand over your right, go on, try it._ _Okay instead of that, it’s more like when you intertwine your hands together…like…if you were holding another’s hand, with the fingers intertwined. I don’t know if you’re understanding what I’m saying, and if you don’t, call me and I’ll try to stop by to show you._

_My point is our world is basically the same as their world, same for their world regarding ours. I mean that’s why you can touch Cas, why Cas can touch you. I’m not sure why there’s a separate plane for them if basically nothing else has changed but here we are, I guess._

_Now the only thing I could not, for the life of me, find an explanation for is how they’re able to perform certain, erm, functions. I don’t want any details about your relationship with him, and it pains me having to consider that at all, but body functions cease upon death, and maybe that’s why they have a separate plane of existence? I dunno. Anyway…really…he should not be able to have sex, at all. There is no blood flowing in those veins so he shouldn’t be able to get boners, and there’s no sperm being made to, ya know, actually ejaculate. I'm sure you noticed he still breathes. It's not because his lungs work. It's purely a comfort thing. Most ghosts don't even realize they're doing it._

_So that’s the gist of it. Sorry I can’t explain everything, but I hope this quiets some of those nagging questions of yours._

_Oh! I forgot to mention. People who die that became ghosts…become so when they chose to stay here, usually unconsciously done so. In death, they get a choice, unfortunately not much of one. The littlest thing will keep them from moving on. If someone is even slightly sad, regretful, angry (etc) about their death, that anger, or whatever emotion, will keep them from moving on until they let go or find the answers they seek. Some ghosts aren’t aware that they’re even hanging on like that. They usually only get one chance to go but I did find evidence that some have special circumstances where they do get a second chance. I don’t know Cas’ situation, so I don’t know why he’s here or if he's entitled for that second chance or not. That’s something you’re gonna have to find out. Yes, this means research. Deal with it, I’m busy. I barely had time to find all this for you._

_And Dean? Be careful. These things don’t usually end well._

At the end, Cas let out a little sigh, closed the notebook, and just…stared. Dean stared at him for a little bit, waiting, then decided to let him process in his own time and switched to watching the park around them.

Cas was silent for a long time.

“He’s right,” Cas began eventually, sounding hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Pardon me.” He was still hoarse so he cleared his throat again. Dean, having brought a thermos of ice cold water, handed it over to him. Cas immediately took a long swig and when he thanked Dean, his voice sounded clearer.

“Sam’s research, it tracks.” Cas handed the thermos back. “I just. Never realized I’d…doomed myself…to…this.”

“Cas…” Dean started.

Cas held up a hand. “No, Dean, let me…I gotta…I gotta get this out.”

Dean nodded, staring at his hands, listening while his heart mourned for the guy.

“It didn’t take me long to figure I was a ghost. I mean, I saw my own body…what was done to it. I felt a very brief flash of anger and I’d never realized that those brief few seconds doomed me to stay on this planet forever. Sam is no more knowledgeable than I about my fate here now; it may well be far too late.” Cas took a deep breath and let it out.

“Did you ever find out who killed you?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head.

“Why?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. Maybe I was too stunned and then just launched into distracting myself? I just…froze…I guess, metaphorically I mean. After seeing my body I just started walking. I had no destination. I had no plan. I just knew I had to get out of there. That was in 1919, I know that, and after that, I drifted for many years; I’ve been all over this country multiple times. It wasn’t until 1986 that I decided enough with the self-pity; it was time to make something out of this doomed existence. I could drift forever if I wanted, but I just knew, deep down, it’d be better for my mental health if I was doing something to pass the time. So, I went to college in another town; I was born in Riverside by the way, I lied to you earlier about that. In 1990, I got my business degree and immediately realized I had no money to launch a business, so for ten years I worked as many jobs as I could, and in 2000, finally found my way back into Riverside, to open the very café where we met. It was shockingly an immediate success.

“In 2007, business finally had gotten to the point where I could no longer handle it alone, so I hired on Michelle. It didn’t take her long to figure out I was deceased. I’m not quite sure how she did that. Maybe she went to go look me up on social media, or google, or something, but I was up front with her when she confronted me one evening. I figured if it scared her off, so be it, I’d just find someone else, but she took it in stride, and has been basically my best friend.

*****Stop if you're afraid of being triggered, skip to next bold section*****

“As the years wore on, despite the success of my business, my depression continued to worsen, which I always bitterly found ironic because I couldn’t very well kill myself, could I? I was already dead. All attempts to distract always led to me being in my room in the middle of the night screaming at the top of my lungs out of sheer frustration that I was stuck like this, forever.”

*****You may continue from here if you'd like*** v v v**

Dean looked at Cas when he fell silent, and though the guy’s voice hadn’t wavered one bit, or broke, his cheeks were soaked with tears. Dean instinctively wrapped his arms around him, none surprised when Cas welcomed the embrace and leaned into it.

“I think we should try,” Dean said quietly.

“Try what?”

“To find out how you died. Who killed you, why they killed you, how they did it. Your anger the first time around may have kept you here to begin with, but I think what really doomed you to not finding that second chance to move on was the lack of finding out about your death.”

Cas was silent for a beat, then looked up at Dean and asked the big question:

“What if it works?”

Dean slowly took a deep breath, let it out, and was honest:

“If you decide you wish to leave, as you are entitled to want…I will let you go.”

A tear escaped down his cheek at that thought; it went ignored.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****WARNING**** There are some somewhat graphic descriptions of violence in this chapter. Not overly graphic but could be enough to disturb some people, so take care. I've put in a skip in case you, reading this, don't like to read these types of things.

That Sunday, they spent mostly in the library coming up with dead ends. By four that afternoon, having exhausted all the resources they could find, Dean burst outside through the library entrance and let out a scream of frustration. Cas, having spent an extra few minutes tidying up after themselves, something that had earned a look of gratitude from the sole librarian, he exited the building just in time to hear the end of Dean’s scream.

“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be screaming in frustration? If anything, this should be something you’re celebrating. It means you get more time with me.”

Dean immediately caught the hint of insecurity lying underneath the humor, and moved in close to his heart’s true desire.

“Listen to me, Cas, and hear me well: I love you. I desperately wanna be selfish. I wanna slow this investigation, as it were, down so I do get more time with you. We got what most would construe to be a whirlwind romance and I want something far longer than that. However, I see, I feel, I _know_ how miserable you are deep down. Yeah, you’d find happiness with me, but it’s only temporary. As soon as I’m dead, you’re right back where you started, if not worse because now you have _two_ reasons keeping you here, and one of them would be pretty unsolvable.”

“You’re saying…your death would disable me from moving on.”

“I could be wrong, but—”

“No, I think you’re right.”

Dean wanted to console away the look of agony on Cas’ face, whether it be there at the thought of Dean’s death or at the thought of truly being stuck here forever, but he couldn’t think of what to say.

“Could you try Sam?”

Dean immediately wanted to say no, absolutely positive, he was, that Sam would say no, but he owed it to Cas to try every opportunity they could find; he dug out his cell phone and called.

Sam answered after two rings.

“Dean, good afternoon.”

Sam was out of breath.

Dean _really_ didn’t want to find out why.

“Bad timing, it seems.”

“Hardly. My boss likes to go for a run in the afternoons and she hates to do it alone.”

 _Uh-huh, I’m sure_ , Dean thought.

“Why’d you call?”

“Cas and I are trying to find out about the details of his death but we were unsuccessful at the library.”

“Well, kudos to you going to the library to try, but where specifically did you look?”

“The newspapers, of course.”

“Oh. There should’ve been a story about it.”

“So we thought but Cas can’t remember the specific date he died so we had to just, in general, look at all of them from 1919 and either this library doesn’t have all the newspapers from that year or…I don’t fucking know.”

“Did you try finding out his actual date of death online?”

“Why would it be online? He died in 1919, they didn’t even have technology back then.”

Sam sighed. “I’m going to just…ignore that comment. Now, I assume Cas died in Riverside, correct?”

Cas confirmed this.

"And obviously you know the year."

“Sam, I know you think I’m an idiot, but there were two brains on this, not just mine, so yes, we took all of these steps. We knew the year. We knew the where. We didn’t find anything. They didn’t have any that dated back that far, which is weird.”

“Did you search _all_ the newspapers?”

“A-all the news…papers?”

“Dean, this town has four different newspapers. Surely you knew that.”

Dean looked at Cas who shrugged; Cas hadn’t known that, either. 

“We…uhm.”

“Which one did you look at?”

“The Riverside Main.”

“The biggest one this town has now but they didn’t come into existence until 1925. Hold on.” In the background, Dean heard Sam typing away.

“Any chance to make me feel like an idiot,” Dean muttered.

Cas took pity upon him, gave his back a rub.

“We didn’t know," he consoled. "Sam is…extensive…in his knowledge. It’s not a requirement of life.”

“If you ask him—”

“Here we go,” Sam interrupted. “ _Trailing Riverside_ is the town’s only newspaper that started way back in the early 1900s. Cas’ death is sure to be in there.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas said earnestly.

“Yeah, thank you,” Dean said, more begrudging than earnest.

“No problem. Hope you find what you’re looking for, Cas.” Sam hung up.

Cas and Dean shared a look, then a sigh, and headed back into the library.

Sure enough, they found what they were looking for; it was front page news, naturally. The article, surprisingly, was short, but it had a lot of the information they needed, starting with the date: November 5th, 1919

Just a few days away, actually.

The article itself was kind of fascinating, if not morbidly so.

****

_** Psycho Killers At It Again; Another Innocent Gone ** _

_Written by: Naomi Hersch_

_All had seemed well this fine day of November 5 th, especially for Cas Collins, the innocent bystander who’d gotten his life ripped right out of his hands. It was a matter of bad timing, and being in the wrong place. Psycho Killers **Charles Azazel** and **William Gordon** had been out on the hunt for another life to steal. Known for killing in broad daylight and yet somehow still getting away, they did not hesitate the moment they saw their perfect victim._

_Cas Collins, observers say, had stopped to pet a stray dog, something residents of Riverside have seen him do plenty of times before. A lot of them admired him for the way he liked to treat the wildlife around them, as well as the domesticated animals in town, as if they were his own children._

_“He could always be seen feeding birds every day, two or three times a day, no matter the weather.” One local resident told us._

_“He was always petting the dogs, the cats, whatever animal that would let him touch them and you’d be surprised what animals would let him come near, only him. It’s like they knew he was pure. He was such a gentle soul, that one. I’m pissed about his death, I hope those ****ing jack***es get gang raped in Hell by the Devil himself and all the demons there.” Another says. Both wished to remain anonymous._

** ***SKIP HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT HOW HE WAS KILLED*** **

_The Killers, whose method of killing changes as often as the number of victims they claim per day, were particularly brutal this time around. They used knives with dull edges. The police refused to comment about how many wounds there’d been but it doesn’t even end there. Even after he passed, these two continued with the stabbing, and one was even seen suddenly urgently taking off his pants to shortly thereafter ejaculate onto the body before redressing and running off with his partner, both of them laughing, celebrating._

*****RESUME HERE IF YOU DESIRE TO KEEP READING THE REST***** **v v v**

_The funeral for Cas will be held this coming Saturday, at three in the afternoon. All are welcome to attend. He will be dearly missed._

Dean could hardly believe what he’d just read. Before he could process it, however, he heard gasping from beside him, and looked with alarm. Cas was staring at the screen with wide, tear-filled eyes, mouth open, having a helluva time breathing.

He was having some sort of attack.

“Cas. Cas.”

Cas could not speak, though he tried. Only a: “H h h h,” could be heard. Dean, desperate to help and unable to figure out how, could only manage to hug him and try to calm him down with gentle words.

This backfired.

Cas shoved him away, shoved himself up and away from the desk, stumbled over his own chair, fell, got back up, and _ran_ for the entrance. Dean raced out after him in time to see Cas throw up onto the grass. Never mind how that couldn’t be possible since he doesn’t eat. Some things transcended the rules of biology, he guessed; Cas was seeming to be going through major trauma.

“Cas?” Dean murmured.

Cas didn’t reply, only fell to his knees and started to sob. It was a heart-wrenching thing to behold, but Dean intuited that now was not the time to touch him, that Cas needed to get this out of his system before anything else could happen next. Dean settled onto the library steps to wait. As much agony as it was to bear, he reminded himself that the agony Cas was going through was a hundred times worse. He hated that there was nothing he could do.

Cas got the last of it out of his system around six-thirty. He had trouble getting to his feet and did not reject Dean's help this time.

“I’m…sorry,” Cas said softly as he and Dean sat together on the steps. Dean handed him the water bottle he’d grabbed from inside the library at the request of the librarian when she’d been locking the place up for the night, and Cas took three long swigs from it.

Dean just realized, belatedly, that Cas’ stomach didn’t digest.

“I realized…you can’t digest that. Like. Your body can’t expel it.”

Cas looked at him, smiled a little, and handed the bottle back.

“Water is one of the weird ones that just.” He shrugged. “I don’t know where it goes but, there you have it.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said then.

“Why?”

“For…that.” He gestured towards where Cas had broken down.

Cas let out a soft sigh, and placed his hand on Dean’s leg.

“Listen to me. I made the choice to find out about what had happened. My reaction is in no way on you, Dean Ackles. You need to stop shouldering the blame for stuff that is not yours to bear. Whether it be now or years from now, whenever I had decided to look into my death, that was likely to be my reaction, no matter how long I’d been existing. It’s just one of those things that would have to have happened. Now that it has, we can continue on.”

“Continue on?”

“They give some details, but not all details. I have a feeling I need to know _all_ the specifics. How many times did they stab me? Which stab finally did me in if that could be ascertained? Who were Charles Azazel and William Gordon? What happened to them after this? Only then do I think, maybe, I might get my second chance.”

Dean, studying him as he spoke, thought he looked particularly drained.

“Not tonight,” he decided.

Cas agreed.

“Tomorrow.”

“Erm…well.”

“What?” Cas asked.

“It’s just. I have class and you have work and. Uhm. My last class ends at four. I’ll. Uhm.” Realizing his brain had taken a wild, unnecessary leap, Dean reigned it back in.

Cas was patient.

“I guess never mind. But what’s the next step?”

“Police report.”

Dean looked at him dubiously.

“From 1919? That’s gotta be impossible. Surely it had to be lost by now.”

“Only one way to find out.”

This was true.

“Tomorrow, then?”

Cas nodded.

“Tomorrow.”


	13. Chapter 13

Cas was jumpy today. Like…seriously jumpy. He’d been jumpy last night but had figured it’d just been the trauma of what he’d gone through. Apparently it was more than that. Every little thing had him nearly escaping out of his skin; from a leaf fluttering by, to the light changing color, to someone just walking past. Part of him knew it was because he was anxious to get on with the investigation into his death, but another part of him wondered if this wasn’t somehow a part of the _Process_. He hadn’t told Dean all that had happened last night upon him reading the article; as he’d thrown up, a voice had appeared in his head.

_You are entering a path that cannot be undone once you are on it._

_You have only once chance to get it right._

_Do you wish to continue?_

He had, without hesitation, said yes.

He still believed this, of course, but that voice…it unnerved him, too, and he had _so many_ questions. Questions for which nobody on Earth would have answers.

So…yeah, Cas was jumpy.

 

Dean wasn’t jumpy but he was impatient. His time left with Cas was rapidly dwindling and it was annoying him that he had to spend such precious minutes in frickin’ class learnin’ shit he already knew. If he skipped, though, his professors would mark him, and he was barely passing as it was.

He repressed another urge to groan and yell at the teacher to _please hurry the fuck up._

As soon as it arrived, he was headed over to the café like a shot. Cas had been off for two hours so Dean headed right up the stairs, greeting Michelle on his way past. She called out a hello in reply, hardly looking up from the order she was working on.

Upstairs, Cas was sitting on his couch, just chilling watching TV, but as soon as Dean opened the door, Cas jumped about a foot in the air, knocking over his glass.

“Gah! Damn it!” He cursed.

Dean rushed over to help but got snapped at so he immediately backed off, wary once more. Had Cas suddenly had a personality change?

Once the mess was cleaned up, Cas approached him, looking calmer. Dean stood absolutely still; worried a single movement would piss him off all over again.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Cas murmured to him, placing a hand on his cheek, leaning in, and giving him a gentle kiss. “I’ve had a rough day.”

Cautiously, Dean slid his arms around Cas’ waist. Cas responded by pulling him in closer. Dean got a flash of desire to make love, and as if connected in thought, Cas began leading him to the bedroom.

They made love with a deeper passion than Dean had ever experienced. Every touch, every smell, every whisper of every movement was magnified. He watched, at the end, as Cas reached his orgasm first, and seeing the look that shone upon the man’s face, Dean’s had been triggered (and suddenly he _fully_ understood).

After a short rest in each other’s arms, the silence of the room blanketing them with a kind of comfort, they decided it was time to get a move on, got up, and went to shower together.

Once dressed, they headed out, hand in hand, heart to heart, to the police station to find out what they could.

They found out nothing.

“Protocol my ass,” Dean growled.

Cas studied him with great intrigue.

“There you go again, reacting as I should be. Why am I calm?”

Dean met his gaze and shrugged.

“That’s a good question, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Perhaps I’m just channeling you.”

“Like you were earlier, while we made love. I felt that, Dean; something more was going on there.”

Dean nodded his agreement, then couldn’t resist pulling Cas in (he was just so _needy_ today for some reason) and kissing him again. Some part of him knew their last day was going to be November 5th, one way or another. Cas knew it too, Dean realized, noticing the _urgent_ way Cas was kissing him now. God, he didn’t want this to end. He wanted time to freeze. He wanted Cas to stay.

He wanted to be selfish.

Instead he forced the kiss to an end and stepped back before he said something really stupid, something Cas would immediately give him despite the pain it would cause himself later on.

“We need to find a way to see that file,” he said.

Cas nodded.

“But how?”

Dean heaved a sigh. As always…

“Dean!” Sam greeted him, an undertone to his words that cut through Dean’s patience like a knife through butter because he just _knew_ what was coming: “What task can I do for you today, sire?”

And there it was.

A steadying hand from Cas had Dean biting back the urge to cuss the ever living shit out of his brother and ruin their one chance to get the answers, because Sam was the only one around who could hack for them without being a liability later on. So, he took a breather, and calmly,  _calmly_ , explained.

“We went to the police station to try to find out more information. The news article was a good start but the police sure do like to keep their murder cases a secret.”

“How’d you go about it?” Sam asked.

This time, Cas answered.

“Claimed I was a relative of his, doing a book about my family and that I needed the historical records but they didn’t bite, said it was a closed case because they’d known who’d done it.”

“It should’ve remained open, they never caught the killers.”

“They did say the killers were killed later on, that’s why it was closed, but they didn’t give me any specifics. That’s where we need you to come in.”

“Me?”

“You can hack into the police database, Sam,” Dean explained. “We need you to do that for us now.”

Sam, to their surprise, began to laugh.

“And just why the hell would I do that for you, Dean?”

“It isn’t for me, Sam. It’s for Cas. Remember Cas? The poor soul trapped on this Earth for an eternity with just one more shot at redemption?”

“Look, I’m sympathetic to his cause, believe me, it sucks what he’s going through, but you, Dean, have been far too distant all these years to just call me up on a whim and expect me to just help you out, no questions asked. Find someone else.”

“We can’t do that, Sam, and you know it! You selfish asshole!”

“Oh I’M the selfish asshole?! Look who’s talking, you jackass! Who was the one who outed me the _second_ I got into Stanford?!”

“I never outed you! You started acting like you were the fucking king of the world, like the rest of us, your _family_ suddenly weren’t good enough!”

“I did no such thing! You were the one who was acting all weird, Dean! Everyone else was happy for me but you, you suddenly realized you’d no longer have a little brother to kick around and take advantage of! You suddenly realized I was onto greater things than you and you lashed out!”

“ _That!_ That right there! You think because I got into college later than you that I’m lesser than! You think because I don’t know what I want out of life that I’m lesser than! Guess what, shitfuck, some people aren’t born magically knowing what they’re gonna do in life! SOME people need some fucking time to fucking _figure it out!”_

 

As they continued to fight, Cas grew continuously agitated; impatient, nervous, anxious, stalled. And not even five minutes in, he’d had enough.

“Sam, Dean, for the love of all that’s fucking holy would you put your god damn issues aside for five fucking minutes _AND HELP ME?!_ Jesus!” He took in a shaky breath, and had to pace a little bit to try to dispel some of the nervous energy that remained. Sam and Dean were silent as he did this.

Then Sam spoke, his tone radically changed.

“Of course, Cas, I’m sorry. I’ll go hack into the police database right after this phone call and email you the results. Uh. Except I don’t have your email.”

“It’s casantiqueblisscafe@gmail.com, all lowercase. I use it for my business, mostly, but it’ll do for this, as well. Thank you, Sam. I’m sorry I yelled.”

“It’s okay; we needed to be set straight. Dean, this isn’t over.”

Dean hung up without a word, too ashamed of his selfish behavior to even look Cas in the eye when Cas approached him.

“Hey,” Cas said gently, “it’s okay, Dean. I know it has nothing to do with him.”

Dean glanced into those eyes, then looked immediately away.

_So he knew._

“It’s okay to admit that you don’t want to let me go, despite saying you would. I never expected this to be any easier for you than it is for me. It’s okay.”

“It’s selfish.”

“Yeah, but guess what. I don’t wanna leave you, either. I love you. I’ve never loved anyone like this. I want to stop this investigation and spend your lifetime loving you like this. It’d be amazing.”

“But it’d also doom you.”

Cas nodded. “And in that, I’m being the most selfish of all.”

“Cas…” Dean couldn’t bear to think of Cas thinking _that_.

“It’s okay. I know that’s not how you see it, which is a blessing. I need to accept that this is okay, too, me wanting to move on. As much as I love you, I’ve been here too long.”

Dean kissed him.

“And you deserve to be in a place that makes you truly happy.”

“Besides. I have a feeling…parting now won’t be the last time we’ll see each other.”

Dean knew this, too.

“Still. Sixty years. Awfully long time.”

Cas grinned. “I’m sure it’ll go by faster than you think it will.”

They headed towards the parking lot, hand in hand.

“Oh, sure, to _you_ it’s not that long. You’ve only lived, what, since the beginning of time?”

Laughing, Cas shoved him. “I am not that old, you jerk.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it, you bitch.”

“Oooh-ho-ho, you better run, boy.”

Laughing together as one chased the other, their troubles were momentarily forgotten.

 

Until they got to the apartment and Cas saw he had an email from SWin4229@standford.edu

“That was fast,” Cas murmured as Dean sat beside him.

Dean studied his beloved.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”

“No.” He closed the laptop without opening the email “I’m not. What if it’s immediate?”

Dean took a deep breath. In his heart, he knew this to be the truth. He also knew…

“You have to wait.”

Cas sent him a tortured look. “I know. November 5th. It has to be full circle.”

“And it’s only November third.”

Swallowing hard, Cas stared at the laptop. Dean stared at Cas, now more desperate than ever to memorize everything about the beautiful soul sitting right beside him.

“Dean?” Cas asked him in a whisper, still staring at the laptop.

“Yeah?”

Cas looked deep into his eyes suddenly.

“Make love to me again.”

“Here?”

“I don’t care where. I just.”

“I need you,” Dean finished, sealing his mouth over Cas’. He understood perfectly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I reference a song. "Truly Madly Deeply" by Savage Garden. It's recommended that you give that beautiful love song a listen so you can sort of better catch the "mood" of the scene, if you will. If you don't want to, that's fine, the scene stands well on its own, too :)

Wednesday, November 5th came way too fast. Their last full day together (Tuesday) had been spent as just: _together_. Dean knew this would fuck up his college credits but he did not care. Obviously he’d choose Cas; nothing came before a love like this, a love he’d know he’d never find again in this lifetime.

They woke up that morning and the first thing Dean just _had_ to do was give him a kiss. He could never kiss him enough; he hated how much time he’d wasted in the beginning…all that stupid denial. It wouldn’t have mattered in the end, of course; he’d still be pissed about the lack of time he’d gotten with Cas. He knew Cas felt the same way, because whenever Dean wasn’t kissing Cas at random moments, Cas was grabbing Dean to kiss him ferociously before continuing whatever it’d been that he’d been doing.

This morning was their last, and it was spent in silence. Dean wanted, desperately, to speak. To say something inspiring, to say something meaningful, but his brain was uncooperative. Because when he wasn’t kissing Cas, he was obsessing about that damned laptop and what would happen afterwards.

Cas was staring at it, too, now, both of them reluctant, both of them knowing better, both of them not even remotely close to ready.

“It’s gotta happen sometime,” Dean said quietly.

“And soon,” Cas replied.

Dean’s heart leapt into his throat.

 _How soon??_ He wanted to demand. His mouth refused to ask because it knew his heart didn't truly want to know the answer.

Cas looked at him with an expression that showed Dean his very soul; he was feeling the same heart-wrenching pain Dean was. It emanated from the heart but it affected every nerve in their bodies; it felt like even their hair hurt.

“Cas…”

Cas took a deep breath, shared a deep kiss, murmured a passionate _I love you so much_ before he got out of bed, walked over to that cursed laptop, and carried it back to the bed.

Dean suddenly got hit with a feeling of _No, too much, I can’t do this, gotta get outta here,_ followed immediately by guilt. As he wrestled with these feelings, Cas opened the laptop, got to that email…and clicked on it.

Together, they read the details of the file which stated the following:

_ *****There is one line of gore described so if you'd like to skip that, look for the next bold section**** _

Cas had been stabbed so many times the coroner had struggled to properly count them all. He made an educated guess that it was well into the two hundreds, all of them (as they knew) done with a dulled knife, which really tore at the skin as it was plunged in, thus making a true device for the most agonizing torture.

_*****You may resume here*** v v v** _

The ultimate cause of death had been when one of the knives had plunged in deep enough to puncture a lung, which had led to the other lung bursting. Cas had died a very painful death that had been anything but fast.

Also in the report was how his killers had died, for it was stated as a reason for why the case was closed. William Gordon and Charles Azazel had been struck, roughly ten years later, by what appeared to be a sense of karma: they had run a red light, and another vehicle that had been in the middle of going through his green light had not seen them in time. Somehow the car engine had caught on fire, spreading quickly to the interior of the car; they had been burned alive. It’s estimated that the number of their victims ranged well into the three-hundreds before this incident, and somehow the police had never once caught the pair.

That was the end of the report.

Cas closed the laptop and for the first time since this incident had occurred a hundred years ago, he felt at peace.

That was all that happened, however.

Dean watched him with great anxiety and ever-growing concern.

“Did it not work?”

“I…I don’t know.”

 _It is not yet time,_ a voice chimed up in Cas’ mind.

Relief flooded him; there was still a chance. That relief died when the movement beside him brought his attention to Dean, who had finally snapped.

He was pacing the room, hyperventilating, hands in his hair, muttering over and over “I can’t do this.” He exited the bedroom, and started pacing beside the couch in the living room.

Cas struggled to get him to stop pacing, Dean fought him when he tried to get him to stop moving entirely, attempting to pull away at all costs. Cas knew what he was doing: he was blindly trying to defend himself because his heart was breaking and it was not something he ever wanted to deal with.

“Dean, Dean! You need to listen to me. Dean. You need to breathe. Breathe. Forget everything else and just _breathe_. Come on, listen to my voice.” Step by step, Cas walked Dean back down to calm. Well, in terms of breathing, he was calm. His emotions still had him strung out, and the tears were relentless.

“Come here,” Cas murmured, pulling Dean into a hug, grateful when he actually let him do so. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t,” Dean whispered. “I can’t do it. I ca…I can’t.”

“I know. I know, Dean. I know.”

“I can’t. Cas, this _hurts too much_.”

“I know. I know it hurts. It’s the worst pain you’ll ever go through.”

“I can’t do this, Cas!”

“Dean,” Cas pulled back and placed his hands on Dean’s cheeks. “Dean, I’m going to ask you this one more time. Would you rather I stayed?”

Dean snapped out of the despair, realizing what Cas was doing.

“You know I want you to stay but you also know…” Dean took a deep breath. “We can’t continue living like this, Cas. Eventually I’m going to get old. Eventually I am going to die. You must not be trapped here any longer so. No. You need to move on. You get that chance, you fucking take it, you hear me? No matter how I fall apart or how you fall apart.” His lips trembled, his breathing was shaky, but he stood resolved. This was his decision and he was fucking standing by it, damn it!

“God, I love you,” Cas half-growled, his lips already on Dean’s.

As they pulled apart, Dean took in another shaky breath, and murmured his love right back.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked then.

Cas looked surprised, but broke out in a wide smile.

“I’d love to. What song?”

“I don’t know if you remember this or even noticed it but the song _‘Truly Madly Deeply’_ by Savage Garden was playing the morning after our first real kiss.”

Cas eyes went wide.

“You…you remember that?”

Dean blushed, looking down at his hands. “Erm. I. Yeah. I like the song.” All at once, he felt like crying again.

It worsened when Cas started the song and they came together. He didn’t even make it halfway through it before he was crying again, burying his face against Cas’ neck (Cas was crying, too). They didn’t really dance, just clung to each other and revolved to a song that had marked the biggest change in their lives. Each remembered different things.

The initial meeting, unable to take their eyes off each other.

The fluttering in their stomachs as they developed crushes on each other.

The impatience when it was clear one was still in the closet.

The frustration.

The fights.

The kiss. Oh god, that kiss.

Or the ones after that.

The first time they made love.

The healing. The flying. The strength. The conviction.

All the things that go with falling in love, with finding someone special and really letting them into every aspect of your life, of growing with them, changing with them, watching them open up in ways they were sure would never happen again, being the reason why they were able to heal and truly love again. Knowing that this one person, of all the people in the world, was entirely yours, heart and soul, someone you’d do absolutely anything to protect, to make smile, to make laugh, to soothe, to keep happy, the one person you’d die for.

They had found that in each other. The once-in-a-lifetime shot at finding a love so deep that it withstands all, even time.

Cas was right. This wasn’t a permanent parting, not for them. They’d meet again and again after this lifetime, in other lifetimes, or in heaven or…whatever came after this. Dean felt this. This was not a goodbye. This was a _see you later_.

It still hurt, though. It still felt like his heart, his newly healed heart, was being ripped to shreds by an unstoppable force. Part of him despaired he’d never be okay again, that this was but one step into a spiral of never-ending agony. He’d never make it through this. Not without his anchor, his calming element, his emotional support, his _perfect half_.

Cas of course needed to go. It was not fair to him, not right, even downright evil to make him stay. Not after all the shit he’d gone through. Not after all the pain he’d suffered.

It still hurt.

And then it was time.

 

_It is time to choose. Do you stay, or do you go?_

Cas’ heart tore apart with finality and for a split second the white hot pain had him nearly passing out. All at once, it was like all his emotions were just pouring forth in one giant, confused, contradicting mass.

Then he looked at Dean, his beloved Dean, and in those green eyes saw the one thing he needed to make the right decision: _faith_. Absolute faith. 

This was not the end. This was only the beginning.

_I wish to go. How much time do I have to say goodbye?_

_You have a few minutes; we need to prep for your arrival._

 

Dean was having a helluva time holding the tears back.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

Cas, who was practically blinded by his tears, could only nod. This _was_ too much to bear. Why had he agreed to leave this beautiful man? _Why?_

Dean took a deep breath. “How much time?”

“A few minutes.”

So Dean fucking launched right into the most cliche thing he'd ever done:

“You’ve been an absolute gift to me, Cas Collins. You’ve opened my eyes to something I otherwise would’ve spent my life hiding from. You taught me so much about myself and made me feel it was something to love, and cherish, not shun. You taught me that I _am_ capable of being loved, that I deserve to be loved, and I just. You’re the miracle I’ve always hoped to have in my life. It’s been a blessing to know you, and to love you and…” he’d wanted to say more, but the tears closed his throat; he was perilously close to losing it. Still, he got out three more words.

“I love you.”

“Oh, god, how I love you too,” Cas’ breathing was shaky, his lips were trembling with effort to keep his own tears minimized to where he could function; he pushed through. “So much I wish I could say to you right now but nothing is half as beautiful as what you just said to me. God. I’m the blessing? You’re the blessing, Dean Ackles. You took this broken, battered man, and you put him back together. You loved me back to life; it wasn’t something I’d ever thought possible again. You gave me hope. You were my strength. You kept me fighting. You taught me faith. You gave me back all the happiness and goodness I had lost over the years. Most of all, you gave me my Second Chance, and words cannot describe just how grateful I am to you for that. I am yours, Dean, now and forever.” He pressed one last kiss to Dean’s lips; one last bittersweet, passionate,  _I love you_ _so much_ kiss. 

_It is time, Cas._

He pulled back, met those green eyes one more time, forced a smile and said:

“Until we meet again."

One last caress of that beautiful cheek, and then…he was gone. Just as suddenly as he’d appeared in Dean’s life, Cas Collins was just...gone.

Dean had no recollection of ever falling to his knees or pulling out his cell phone.

 

Sam, having been in his dorm room studying like hell for what the professor said would be the hardest test in his life, jumped when his phone began to ring. Glancing at caller ID, he did a double take when his brain recalled the specific date of this day. He grabbed the phone, launching to his feet in the same movement.

“Dean.”

All he heard, at first, was the most heart-wrenching sound he’d ever heard his brother make: agonized sobs. He felt the pain radiating in waves through the phone, it was that potent, and it rendered him speechless. His tough big brother, the one who would’ve rather died than let anyone catch on that he had feelings, the one who was strong, stoic, untouchable, the one who could get through anything…completely broken.

And the man said only one word:

“Sammy.”

That tone made Sam’s knees want to buckle. The _agony._ Forget their past,  forget all the fighting, all the hostility, the distance that’d been between them. Right now, his big brother’s heart had just been shattered. Right now, his brother was grieving. Right now, _his brother needed him_.

“I’ll be there soon, Dean.” He hung up and headed right over to Cas’ apartment, never mind how he’d even known where it was.

Walking into that apartment, and seeing Dean laying curled up on the floor, cheeks and part of his shirt soaked from his nonstop tears, the pain of loss, of heartbreak shining through from every single part of the man, Sam would never forget this moment.

He walked over, sat down on that floor, pulled Dean into his arms, and began to rock the man who for the first time in his life was broken right to the core.

 

_**Epilogue:** _

_Dean did eventually get better. His heart never healed from the loss, but he didn’t take long to become a functioning member of society again, doing so in the name of Cas; meaning it’s what Cas would’ve wanted. He graduated with higher overall grades, earning him an immediate job which, while it wasn’t what he’d wanted after all, had led him down the path to him finding what he did want to do: be a wildlife conservationist. Dean lived his life forever thinking of Cas, knowing his heart truly belonged only to him, so he never found romance again in his living life. Instead, he focused upon his job, his friends, his family. Patiently awaiting the day he would once again see his one and only true love._

_When death came, he closed his eyes on the hospital room he’d been in, and opened them at…_

_Antique Bliss Café? Cas stood before him in front of the counter, hands clasped before him resting against his legs, looking just the same as Dean remembered. Dean himself was back to his young, twenty-two year old self, not that he’d actually known that at the time: his focus was solely upon Cas._

_Cas smiled at him, opening up his arms._

_“It’s about god damn time you showed up,” he said._

_Dean let out a laugh and ran into his soul mate's arms, reveling in the kiss that followed. It was here they stayed, together, two halves of a perfect whole, in complete bliss (and quite a few fights), a happily ever after._

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my work! It truly means so, so much to me. I hope you had as much fun going on this adventure with Cas and Dean as I had writing it. These characters were a lot of fun to work with, and while I'm glad it's finally come to a conclusion thus allowing me to move on to the next work to come, I am greatly saddened to be saying goodbye; unlike it'd been for them, this is not a "see you later".
> 
> This was my first attempt at writing a story with a heartbreaking ending, something I'd never have attempted to try when I was younger. It was a challenge to write, because I absolutely live in stories that end well. I was almost there, too, but as you saw, there is still some work to be done in this department. I was not originally intending to add that epilogue at the end, but I just...I caved. But hey, always try, at least, and keep trying.
> 
> Thank you once again for reading! I hope you'll join me on my next adventure, whatever that shall be. I am @lovemesomecas94 on tumblr, feel free to talk to me about anything, or if you're curious about being tagged in my next work, or whatever else! :)
> 
> Until next time, my pretties, stay kind, stay weird, and stay true!


End file.
